


Two Dead Men

by Quail (Salamander)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Facials, Fix-It, M/M, Major Character Injury, Oral Sex, Rimming, Slight domination, not the beauty therapy kind, of the sexual kind, sassy little shit nyx, vague mentions of past rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2018-10-22 08:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10693443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salamander/pseuds/Quail
Summary: Nyx and Drautos survive the end of Kingsglaive, with a little kingly intervention.





	1. Chapter 1

They’d been meeting like that for some time, now. Oh, sure, it’d started off innocent enough; drinking far too much, betting high on cards and the adrenaline of illegal fighting; backs slamming against walls and bloodied noses and the next thing they knew they were grinding together, hips against hips -  _ damn  _ that son of a bitch Drautos for being so tall - and Nyx on his tip-toes, pushing, pushing, always pushing. And, amazingly, Drautos never pushing back, and wasn’t that a confusing situation. Especially in the hazy, hangover-fuelled hell mornings, when all Nyx could think about was his lips on Drautos’ and their dicks rubbing together until the friction coaxed them both over the edge. 

Nothing more hellish than that when you had to face your Captain fresh-faced on Monday morning all over again. Wondering what went on inside that big, stone-faced head of his. Whether he was kept awake with a raging hard-on, thinking about other stuff he’d like to do to him. With him. Whatever. 

Those days always passed in a haze. Of wanting, of lust. Of dusty memories, long-forgotten; the feeling of a dick in his mouth, or of someone forcing themselves upon him; fists in his hair and teeth at his neck; armour and blood blurring into one. Of losing his sister all over again; fighting the man who was his captain, his hearth and home collapsing in flames, only these were the flames of old kings, rotted and dust-ridden in their dotage, their voices an echo in his ears as he fell to his knees. 

There was a stench; not a nice one, like Drautos’ aftershave, warm leather in the sunshine, or asphalt after the rains. No, this was akin to searing flesh from a firaga gone wrong; the tang of metal in his mouth as when he’d bitten his tongue on a ‘port landing gone wrong. 

Something cold against his overheated skin. Cold and metal, and more blood, too. Where did the blood start and his flesh end? There was movement, too. Arms under his, then under his knees.

Nyx opened his eyes; blinked once, twice through the haze of blood and pain. His vision stayed muddy, but he began to get more of a sense of what was going on. The memories… they were just that. He’d… died. Right? 

Or… had he? There was a voice. A familiar one; familial, even. It rang out like a kukri parrying a sword, straight and true as steel.  _ You will not have him _ . Have him? But they had a bargain. Did that mean that… 

“Libertus!” Nyx’s eyes shot open and he looked around, frantically. “Lunafreya!” 

“They are safe,” came a voice next to his ear. “And alive, and as far from you and I as they could possibly be. Now go back to sleep, Ulric, before I have to knock you out.”  

That voice, so familiar. So harsh and commanding. It hit Nyx deep in his chest, and he felt himself obeying without even thinking about it. Sleep. Yeah, sleep was good. Sleep he could do. 

\- - -

It was three days before Nyx finally woke up properly. Before then, he alternated between feverish nightmares and shivering against a rock-solid warmth that his brain refused to recognise. Couldn’t be.

But the harsh reality slapped him in the face, along with a light drizzle that his parched skin soaked up like a desert flower. It  _ was _ Drautos. Nyx groaned, his eyes gritty and pains in places he didn’t even realise existed until now. 

He was hardly a stranger to wounds from the battlefield, but these? They felt different. 

“What day is it?” His voice was just as gritty as his eyes; he sounded like he’d swallowed a cactuar on a bad day. 

“Thursday.” 

There was the sound of a fire being stoked, and Nyx turned his head as best he could, catching a glimpse in his peripheral. So it was true.

“How many days’ve I been out?”

“Four.” Drautos poked the kindling in the fireplace once more and then turned to Nyx, regarding him with expressionless eyes. “And you should be out for more, if I have any say in the matter.”

Nyx choked out a bitter laugh, which set off a cough, which, in turn, set off a fire in his ribs and back that couldn’t possibly just be from their fight. Could it? “Gonna-” he coughed more, the acrid stench of burning green branches hitting the back of his throat.

A hand appeared in front of him, holding a military issue tin cup of the kind that screwed on top of a water canteen. “Drink.” Drautos’ brows beetled, and Nyx opened his lips to allow some of the water to wet them. “Only a little, now. Don’t make yourself sick.”

He took two sips, then shook his head. “No more. I’m- I’m good.” He coughed again, but it was eased slightly from the water. Unlike the pains shooting through his body. “What happened? Why-” Nyx tried to push himself upright, but only managed to prop himself a little higher on his elbow. “Why the  _ fuck _ are we still alive?” His tongue worked against the roof of his mouth, trying to stifle the extreme nausea washing through him. “Traitor.”

“Ah, there it is.” Drautos turned away from Nyx and screwed the tin cup back onto its canteen. “I wondered how long it’d take you to get to that.” He sat back on his haunches, staring into the fire. “Go back to sleep, Ulric. You’ll need all the rest you can get.”

“Like hell I’m going back to sleep!” Nyx struggled and managed to just about lever himself upright. He glared at the back of Drautos’ head, but it went ignored, just like his questions. “Answer me,  _ traitor _ .”

“You can say it as many times as you like. It won’t make any difference.” Drautos stayed turned away, eyes fixed on lord knew what. “Won’t change what’s happened.”

“I don’t get you,” Nyx spat. His elbow quivered, and he lowered himself back down with a pained sigh. “What the hell happened to hearth and home, huh? Guess that was just as meaningless to you as we all were.” 

There was a rustle of fabric, and Drautos appeared in his line of sight, looming over him like a carrion crow. “You shut your mouth, Ulric, or I’ll shut it for you.” His voice shook with some barely contained emotion, and before Nyx could even open his mouth to speak, Drautos was there, one huge hand covering Nyx’s mouth. “Don’t make me do something I’ll regret.” He narrowed his eyes, and Nyx nodded, swallowing against the dryness in his throat. 

“Good.” Drautos sat back again as though nothing had happened. “There’s broth. Standard issue, I’m afraid.”

Nyx laughed again, fingers drifting to where Drautos’ palm had been not seconds before. “Great, my favourite.” Drowsiness was washing back over him again, though, and he let it take him. At least in his sleep, he didn’t have to deal with this bullshit. 

\- - -

The next time Nyx woke up, it was blindingly sunny. Not a drop of rain in sight. He sighed deeply before even opening his eyes, attempting to lift an arm to shade them from the sun. “Day is it?” he mumbled, throat dry as sand all over again.

“Saturday.” Drautos leaned over Nyx and grinned toothily. “Broth?”

Nyx grimaced, but he nodded through it. “Guess it’s that or nothing, huh?” His stomach rumbled and a wave of nausea washed through him. Waking up like this was getting to be some serious deja vu bullshit. He glanced around at their surroundings; they were in a derelict old shack with one wall mostly missing, through which the sun made its presence known.

“That or nothing.” Drautos picked up an empty bowl, clearly from his own meal, and ladled out a small serving. “And not much of it, either.” 

Nyx rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, wounded rations, I got it.”

Drautos narrowed his eyes, mouth thinning to a disapproving line. “No. Rations suitable for a person who might just throw them all back up in two minutes if he eats too much, too fast.”

There wasn’t exactly a response for that one, so Nyx settled for holding out his hand to take the bowl. It was hardly heavy, but his arm immediately began to ache. He hid the discomfort on his face, though, and focused on trying not to let it spill down his chin. The broth was lukewarm, and frankly, tasted like ass.

“I know, it’s disgusting. Suck it up.” Drautos sat back down and replaced the lid of the broth pot. “If you manage to stay awake for longer than ten minutes, I might be able to go out hunting and get some real meat to go in there.”

Nyx stayed silent, concentrating on sipping the broth and actually keeping it down. Now that his stomach was on the receiving end of some food, it wanted to complain even more. The nausea was back with intent, and he grimaced as the broth roiled in his stomach.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Drautos removed the bowl from Nyx’s trembling hands and set it down in front of him. “Breathe, Ulric. It’s the first time you’ve eaten in over a week. You gotta let your body get used to it again.” 

“Since-” Nyx swallowed. “Since when did you become field fucking medic?” He covered his mouth with his hand, eyes sliding shut as he focused all his energies inward. Deep breaths, yeah. He could manage that, right? Hah. 

The nausea did settle slightly, though, and Nyx opened his eyes again once he felt like it was safe to do so without the fear of puking up everything he’d just swallowed.

Drautos grunted his reply once Nyx was through concentrating on his broth. “Hidden talents.” 

“Yeah, not the only hidden thing about you, is it?” Nyx glared sourly at the back of Drautos’ head. 

“No, there’s others too.” Drautos stayed turned away. “Like my amazing ability to punch people straight in the nose when they’re irritating their captains.”

Nyx snorted with derision. “You’re not my captain any more,  _ Glauca _ .” He spat the name like it was poison. 

“If I was Glauca, you wouldn’t be here right now.” This time, Drautos did turn around. He directed his glare at Nyx’s torso, which, now he thought about it, hurt like a  _ bitch _ . “Your dressings need changing.”

Nyx looked down and his hand went automatically to his stomach. It was hot, and sticky, and wow, he felt woozy all of a sudden. Maybe sitting up was a little too much exertion for one day...

Drautos moved faster than Nyx would have believed - if he hadn’t seen the man as Glauca, that is - and caught him just as he toppled sideways, cradling his head to stop it from hitting the rocks around them. 

“You’re fast,” he mumbled, reaching up to poke Drautos in the cheek. 

“I need to concentrate.” 

Nyx just grunted under his breath. He felt his vision fading in and out and the throbbing in his gut was getting unbearable. Just how many wounds did he have, anyway?

Drautos laid Nyx’s head down on their folded sleeping bag and got to work. The stomach wound had reopened and was bleeding profusely, but he managed to staunch the flow of blood and stitch the wound back up without much fuss. Nyx was too out of it to make any protests outside of vague moans, obviously too familiar with the sharp pain of being hastily patched up on a battlefield.

There was high-proof alcohol left in his hip flask and Drautos doused the wound liberally with it before pressing the back of his hand to Nyx’s forehead. “Too hot,” he said under his breath, displeasure writ plain on his face. “You better not die on me, Ulric.”

Nyx laughed, breath catching in pain as his stomach fluttered with it. “Didn’t move a muscle while you stitched me up, but you think I’m gonna die from what, a fever? Pff.” 

“Mm, it would be kind of ironic. Survived the Galahd, the war,  _ me,  _ and those old kings, only to die in the asscrack of nowhere from wound sepsis.”

“I don’t have sepsis, fuck off.”

“No, but you do have a high temperature. Now quit your mewling and drink this.” Drautos produced a little bottle of something blue and pressed it to Nyx’s lips. 

He opened them, grudgingly obedient, and felt the warm, familiar liquid down his throat. “That all you got, a measly Potion?” 

“Not sure if you’re aware, but I hardly stopped to pack a suitcase.” Drautos took the empty Potion back and stoppered it up, slipping it away somewhere before turning his attentions back to Nyx. “Measly Potion it might be, but it’ll still help that temperature.” He pressed his hand to Nyx’s forehead once more, then nodded in satisfaction.

“Happy now, nurse?” 

Drautos glowered. “Are you going to make it your job to antagonise me at every possible opportunity?”

Nyx smiled, although there was no emotion behind it. “Yeah, sounds about right, General.” That elicited a shake of the head, and he smirked. “So what’s the extent of the damage, anyway. What, I gotta be covered in shrapnel.”

“One large wound in the stomach, luckily not too deep else you’d not be talking now.” Drautos held up his hand and began to count on his fingers. “Seven pieces of shrapnel in your back; one bullet lodged somewhere next to the base of your spine; another in the upper arm; one chunk out of your thigh, and let me see... I think that’s all of them.”

“My thigh?” Nyx looked down at his legs, noticing for the first time that yeah, the right thigh was covered in bandages. “Wait. You said my spine? How the hell can I move, then?”

“Very base.” Drautos leaned forward and slid his hand under Nyx, pressing a finger gently against the area, just to the left of Nyx’s lower back. “Any closer and you’d have been paralysed. As it is, I have my doubts about your motor function in that leg. Think maybe it hit a nerve cluster.”

His words began to fuzz together and Nyx groaned. “Guess that’s why I’ve been asleep so much, huh?” Was he slurring? Ah hell. 

“Yeah, that’s why you’ve been asleep so much.” Drautos frowned and rubbed his chin, fingers rasping against his stubble. “Right, we’re sticking around here for a little while. I’ll go stock up on some Potions and supplies.”

“Sticking around?” The words didn’t sound much like English, and they weighed heavy on his tongue. Nyx felt himself slipping back out of consciousness. 

“Shh.” Drautos pressed his palm against Nyx’s cheek, almost cradling it. “Get some rest, Nyx.”

Nyx’s eyes slid shut, and Drautos stood up, worry still writ on his face. It was still plenty light and the area was safe - near enough to Meldacio, a Hunter HQ - that there weren’t many beasts lurking, but far enough away that no one would really stumble upon them. Convenient places, these Hunter territories; always some little shacks nearby, usually equipped with ample firewood and even some dry and tinned supplies. He’d raided this one quite gently in the five days he’d been caring for Nyx, but the suppliers were starting to run low. 

He looked down at Nyx and scrubbed at the back of his neck with one hand. Well, he didn’t have much of a choice. Luckily, he’d managed to rifle through plenty of bodies on their way out of Insomnia; his wallet was full of cash and his pockets too, as well as a few knick-knacks he could potentially trade for other goods. 

So, to the HQ it was. The place was more like a little ramshackle village, and likely to have more people than Drautos would prefer, but it was that or leave Nyx with nothing. And besides, they could use some food outside of the field rations he always kept a bunch of. Those weren’t any good for anything, other than slowly grinding down the morale of literally anyone who ate them.

He pulled up his hood, unsure of how well his face would be known this far from the cities. Paid to be careful, though. And he hardly wanted some hyped up hunter following him back thinking they’d get themselves an easy bounty. Didn’t fancy shedding more blood than necessary. 

It was a brisk walk to Meldacio, and Drautos was overly warm when he arrived, but hey. Disguise was more important than a little discomfort anyway. The shop was small, but well-stocked at least, and he even managed to pick up a second rucksack to carry everything in.

He got a full stock of Potions, Hi-Potions (and some Elixirs for good measure), a good amount of Remedies, and a little packet of Phoenix Down, just in case. Always good in a pinch. His last stop was a little cafe to pick up some ingredients and a couple of warm, boxed-up meals, and then he was back on the road again. 

It was starting to get cooler when Drautos arrived back at their little shack, and he was relieved to find that Nyx was fine. Still asleep, head tilted to the right just where he’d left it in case of any vomiting incidents. 

Drautos busied himself quietly unpacking the supplies, putting them in the little old cupboard, out of sight. All but one of the Elixirs, which he set to one side next to Nyx. The embers of their fire from last night still sat in the grate, and Drautos brought his flint to bear, striking a light into the fireplace, which lit up the cabin nicely.

“Nyx,” he said softly, sitting down cross-legged next to Nyx. He leaned forward and brushed damp hair out of his face. “I got something a little better than a Potion this time. Should help.” Drautos picked up the Elixir and uncorked it, giving the bottle a sniff. Smelled disgusting, as usual, but the best medicines always did. 

Nyx’s eyes fluttered, and he opened them, blinking up at Drautos. “Whassup?”

“Elixir, Ulric.” Drautos’ voice dropped to its usual gruffness. He tilted Nyx’s head and pressed the bottle against his lips, tipping it enough to allow the thick liquid to trickle out. “Drink it up, now. It won’t fix your back because the bullet’s still there, but it’ll help everything else.”

Nyx made a disgusted sound, but he drank the Elixir obediently. A spark came to his eyes and the pained lines around them eased, slightly. Drautos felt a weight in his own body lift a little, and he sat back, settling both his hands in his lap.

“I brought some more interesting food, too. Figured some home-cooked soup might be a bit more palatable than my field rations, huh?”

Ulric turned onto his side, although with a hastily-hidden wince, presumably from his back. “Anything is better than that tripe.” He grunted, but the sound was amused. “Elixirs, soup. What else, you gonna say you’re taking me out for a candlelit dinner?” 

Drautos raised an eyebrow, fixing Ulric with his trademark stare. “More like firelit,” he replied, shoulders tensing back up again. “You got a problem, Ulric?”

“Nosir.” Ulric attempted a lazy salute, but the movement had him blanching, biting his bottom lip in pain. “Just wondering why, that’s all.” 

The question hit Drautos in the gut like a bullet. Why? Shit. How was he supposed to know? He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Always asking the hard questions, aren’t you.” He stared at the wall above Ulric’s head; anywhere but at that face with it’s searching gaze. 

“Someone’s gotta. Keeps lying bastards like you on their toes, doesn’t it.”

There it was again. Yeah, just keep on reminding him… Not that he could ever forget it.

“For hearth and home,” he said, finally, into the darkening cabin. “That’s why. Always that.”

Ulric snorted, then hauled himself gingerly onto his back again. “Doesn’t fucking exist, Drautos. Not any more.”

“Then maybe we should rebuild it.” The thought was there like the spark of an ember, but buried under ash and soot. Two dead men? Maybe they could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, there was no _action_. Sorry to end it on a bit of a negative! But there's hope in there too, don't worry. :3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drautos realises the severity of Nyx's injuries; what he needs to do next seems slightly obvious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as ever, to my lovely birdhusb for eagerly reading every evening's 500~ words and spurring me on with regular RP shenanigans; kittiofdoom for enjoying the Drautos Thirst with me and providing me with Excellent Thirst Pictures (U KNOW THE ONES); and pseudomachine for both an amazing editing job and for enabling (and joining me in) the Spiralling Descent Into Big Beef Hell :3 UR ALL AWESOME

Drautos’ back ached from sitting against the wall all night, and he groaned as he awoke. Sleeping sitting up just wasn’t the wisest thing to do these days; was he finally, truly too old for this shit? Hmph. 

He stretched his arms upwards, wincing as his back cracked. Nyx seemed to be no worse, and Drautos exhaled tension he hadn’t even realised he was holding. But then again, just because his face was at peace during sleep, didn’t mean that his wounds were any better.

Drautos got to his feet with another wince as his legs straightened up, stretched his body fully in the morning sunshine. Weather looked to be good again, which was helpful. He knew from great personal experience that colder weather was hell on wounds, and a bit of sunshine was good for morale, too. 

Going to his knees, he leaned over Nyx and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” he murmured, not quite loud enough to wake him. What the hell was he doing?

Nyx’s eyes fluttered open anyway, and Drautos cursed inwardly that Ulric was such a light sleeper. He should’ve remembered that. 

“Oh Lord, my back,” he croaked, eyes flicking to the outside, then back to Drautos. “You got any more Elixirs in that cupboard?”

Drautos frowned. “I think you’re gonna need more than just Elixirs, Ulric.” He grabbed one of the water canteens and unscrewed the lid, pouring a little into the cup and holding it out. “It’s not getting better, is it.”

It wasn’t a question, and Ulric saw the truth of it in Drautos’ eyes. “No, it’s not.” His lips were set in a firm line, but he couldn’t help but lick them. “Give me that water.” Ulric took the cup and drank it slowly, thoughtfully, until it was done. “So what’s the plan?”

Drautos poured himself a drink and downed it, brow crinkling as he thought. “We need transport. You can’t be holed up here forever, and we need to get that bullet outta your back.”  _ Before it fucks you up forever _ , he thought. 

Ulric snorted. “Yeah, let’s just get right on that train back to Insomnia. Oh wait, we can’t.”

“No, we can’t. But we can find somewhere else. Lestallum, perhaps.” Drautos screwed the lid back on the canteen and set it aside. “Now, breakfast. I brought food from Meldacio. Do you think you’re up for eating something a little more solid?”

“I thought you said you’d got soup. That’s hardly solid.”

“It’s a hell of a lot more solid than broth,” Drautos replied with a smirk. “Or maybe you’d prefer that, hm?”

Ulric glared. “Feed me broth and I’ll spit it back at you.”

“Soup it is, then.” Drautos got up and opened the cupboard, pulling out the two boxes of soup. “It has noodles. Kinda like thicker ramen, I think.” There was a grumbling noise, presumably from Ulric’s stomach, and Drautos laughed. “Yeah, I know. Let me heat it first, okay?”

There was hardly an oven in this place, so Drautos had to make do with the fireplace. Luckily, there was a small, battered pan in one of the cupboards, which he’d found earlier in the week. He emptied both cartons of soup into the pan and set it in the fire. It wasn’t ideal, but they weren’t swimming in options. 

It took seemingly forever before the food was steaming. Drautos managed to remove the pan from the fire without burning himself, and tipped it back out into the soup cartons. He pulled a pair of spoons from the rucksack and sat back down, legs crossed. 

“Do I have to hand-feed you, or can you manage?”

Ulric snorted. “I’ll manage. Probably.” He moved to sit up, but winced with pain, his face blanching even whiter than it currently was. He was silent, then, and Drautos figured that was more of an indicator of trouble than anything else.

Drautos shifted over, enough that he could pull Ulric against him, almost in his lap; his upper back propped against Drautos’ thigh like he belonged there. “Tell me if it hurts,” he murmured, then grabbed the bowl of soup and scooped up a spoonful. “And no bitching about spoon-feeding, alright?”

Nyx smiled weakly. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sir.” He opened his mouth for the soup and swallowed it obediently. There was some sarcasm in his voice, but nowhere near the level he’d been throwing out in the last few days. 

Frankly, it was worrying. And all the moreso because, well, it was quite literally all Drautos’ fault.  _ Glauca’s _ fault. He couldn’t lie to himself or try and hide it behind pretty words. He wasn’t that kind of man, and besides, Drautos figured he deserved this. Playing nursemaid for the man he’d fought and, potentially, paralysed. The Six’s idea of a great big joke, maybe. But he’d withstand it; he’d weathered worse. And what’s more, he… wanted it. Wanted the punishment? Maybe. 

“I’m going to get a vehicle today,” Drautos said, breaking his own silence. He fed Nyx another spoonful of soup and noodles. “I’ll probably have to steal it. You’re not gonna have a problem with that, are you, hero?”

Drautos felt Nyx laugh more than heard it; a suppressed shake against his thigh. 

“You know what? I think I can give you a free pass on that one.” Nyx took another mouthful of soup and chewed on it slowly. “Considering I might never walk again if you don’t.”

Drautos’ blood ran cold. So he knew. His lips thinned and he stared over Ulric’s head and into the flames. “Yeah, you might never walk again.” His voice came out like a stone dropped into a deep lake. 

“Well, at least I got one leg, right?” Ulric tipped his head back and looked up at Drautos, forcing him to meet his gaze. 

“Yeah.” Drautos looked down, almost losing himself in those damned blue eyes. “And who knows, they might even get you a magitek leg.”

Ulric’s face tightened, at that. “I’d rather go without.” He turned his face away and stared out through the missing wall. “I’ve eaten enough. You can put me back down now.”

Drautos knew that was the end of the conversation, so he set aside the container of soup with no comment before gently sliding Ulric back onto his position on the floor. He was grateful for the three bedrolls which’d been stored in this place. At least Ulric could have that amount of comfort, raising his injured back from the floor. Small comfort though it must be.

He stood up and stretched once more, feeling the kinks in his back crack their way up his spine, one by one. So, a vehicle. Potentially easier said than done, but Drautos was always up for a challenge. And besides - if he couldn’t steal them a car, then what kind of man did that make him? Not a particularly resourceful one, that’s what.

The rucksack was lighter without the food and medicine; Drautos shouldered it and gave Ulric a look-over before throwing his hood back over his face. The main problem to chew over was the actual acquisition of a car. Hell, even a truck would work, although there wouldn’t be somewhere to lay Ulric down in that case. Hell of a lot better than walking, though. 

Drautos heaved a sigh and stepped outside of the shack, tipping a wary eye to the weather. Not too many clouds, looked set to stay nice enough. Hopefully long enough for him to get a car and get back, anyway. Maybe even with enough time to hunt something good to eat as well. They’d need more provisions; more than he could get from a little shop in Meldacio, anyway. 

It’d been a long time since Drautos had hunted anything worth hunting. His spirits lifted slightly at the thought, and he left the cabin behind.

\- - -

Nyx woke, as ever, to the throb of pain at his lower back. And, well, everywhere else as well; but the most pressing was the back. It was like a badly-landed warp strike, juddering through his bones with every breath. It took a few good, deep ones before he was able to settle his heart rate and just let himself be without dissolving into panic. 

The cabin was empty. He realised almost instantly, and it left Nyx feeling wide-eyed and restless. He couldn’t get up without help - a sobering thought - and he wondered just where Drautos had gone for a second. Right up until the memory came back: prosthetic,  _ Magitek _ , a car.

Yeah. That was it - a car. So they would, at the very least, have some mode of transport. The whys and wherefores, however, were still an unknown variable. Exactly what the fuck did Titus Drautos - General Glauca himself - plan to do?

Steal a car to drive them somewhere. Hearth and home, he’d said. Wasn’t that a great big kick in the damned teeth. Like they had a home left, any more. What he’d done had taken care of that; even after Galahd, they’d had some semblance of a home in Insomnia.

Sure, it was a parched, grey shadow of what he longed for, but it was better than nothing. Better than living on the edges of society, crammed together in a slum somewhere in the Empire, eking out a measly, rain-forsaken existence under the bootheels of the Nifs.

That sounded a lot like his current situation. Damn. Only there was a lack of bootheels and somewhat more...kindness than he’d expected. 

What  _ had  _ he expected? Not this, that was for sure. Expected to never wake up again, definitely. To die a hero as the dawn rose; keeping his side of the bargain.

Instead, he was given this. A sorry husk of a body, and a caretaker who’d betrayed everything he loved for a country he hated. 

Nyx’s throat was dry, and he swallowed painfully. Turning his head to the side, he saw the water canteen which had been left at an easily reachable distance. Assuming he could even manage that pathetic task.

A surge of anger fuelled him, and he managed to shuffle enough to reach for the canteen and get a cup poured out, albeit with shaking hands. He held it with all his fingers wrapped around, tipping it carefully so that it wouldn’t dribble down his chin. 

The water was warm and metallic-tasting, but it felt like the best thing he’d ever drunk. 

Thirst quenched, Nyx screwed the cup back onto the canteen and let his head fall back onto the bunched-up bedrolls with a sigh. His stomach rumbled, and he rubbed it gingerly. How long was Drautos gonna be? Surely it wouldn’t take such a long time to find and steal a car? 

Then again, he didn’t even know where they were. They could be in the middle of nowhere, far from civilisation, for all Nyx knew. Although, there was the fact that he’d turned up with food, so obviously there must be something, somewhere nearby. Not that that meant there would be any cars to steal, but a man could hope.

And where did that leave him? Hoping for the traitorous bastard who’d given him all these injuries to get back sooner? And why, so he could play nursemaid for longer? Nyx felt sick. And even sicker when that treacherous part of his own mind lingered on the way he’d been leaning against Drautos earlier. The way he’d fed him slowly, and carefully. The way he seemed to almost soften at the edges, when he thought Nyx wasn’t looking. Lord, he really was fucked, wasn’t he?

It seemed like forever before a low roar cut through the silence around him. Nyx lifted his head and watched through the cabin’s missing wall as a bright red car pulled up outside. He groaned inwardly as the engine stopped and out stepped Drautos, shading his eyes against the midday sun. 

“You took your time,” he called out, voice still a little husky from disuse. 

“Well, I wasn’t going to steal any old hunk of junk, was I.” Drautos opened the trunk and pulled out something which stank to high heaven.

Nyx wrinkled his nose. “No, obviously not. You had to go for the flashiest damn car this side of Insomnia, though.” He glowered at Drautos. “And what the hell is that godawful stink?”

Drautos flashed Nyx a grin full of teeth. “That would be a nice big chunk of Regaltrice,” he said, dumping the carcass onto the floor of the cabin. It looked like a piece of thigh or something, with a huge taloned foot on the end. 

“Guess you had some fun while you were out there then, huh?”

“Been a long while since I had chance to hunt anything at all.” Drautos fished out another piece of Regaltrice and dropped it next to the other one before closing the trunk and wiping his hands on the thighs of his trousers. “It was refreshing.” He stretched both arms upwards, and Nyx couldn’t help but track the movement of his back. “So, do you like the car?”

“Yeah, I guess. Not very incognito though, is it?”

“That’s the point. No one’s gonna stop a car looking like that. Looks too important.”

Nyx snorted. “Yeah, too fancy more like. We’re more likely to get robbed than anything else.”

Drautos raised an eyebrow at Nyx, then came to squat down next to him. “You think someone’d have the balls to rob  _ me _ ?” He snorted right back at Nyx. “They’d have a nasty surprise if they tried anything.”

“Hmm.” Nyx rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t argue with that. Drautos  _ was  _ built like a brick shithouse; you’d have to be dumb to mess with him. Either that or suicidal.  _ Or a Glaive with delusions of being a hero, _ he thought bitterly. 

“I got a bunch of salt and packages from Meldacio too. Before the car, of course. So I really hope you like preserved ‘trice meat.” Drautos pushed up both of his sleeves.

“Where the hell did you learn to preserve meat?” Lord, the more he learned the more Nyx was beginning to realise he didn’t know shit about his old Captain.

“Same place I learned to sew combat wounds,” Drautos replied as he pulled out one of Nyx’s kukris. “War.” 

“Don’t know many wars where you need to preserve meat.” Against all good sense, he found himself becoming interested in Drautos and his past. 

“No, well. It was more of a skirmish, I guess.” Drautos paused for a second, tapping the point of the kukri against the meat. “Or guerilla warfare, maybe. I don’t know, we didn’t really think much about it.” He levered the point of the kukri between flesh and hide and began to remove the skin in neat, sawing motions while Nyx watched, fascinated.

“It was coming winter, and the Nifs’d just taken our village. Just me and a couple of other men; green behind the ears, too. We all were. Didn’t have anywhere to go, but we sure had enough fire and blood between us to make a good show of it.” He finished off the large thigh, dropping the skin to one side before starting on the smaller piece.

“One of the men’d been a chef’s apprentice; he showed us how to preserve meat and fish, and which vegetables and fruit were safe to eat out in the wild.” He finished the smaller piece and added the skin to the pile, then turned to look at Nyx, bloodied kukri still in one hand. “He died not long after. One of the Nifs caught him with his pants down, taking a shit in the woods. Hell of a way to die, with your pants around your ankles.”

Nyx winced, fists clenching. He thought of how Crowe had looked, when they went to see her body. The way she’d laid there, so cold and… lifeless. Hardly like the fireball of a woman they’d all known and loved. Did Drautos think of his old skirmish buddies that way? A sobering thought. Maybe he was just as haunted as all the rest of them. Same story, different ghosts. 

“You still with me?” Drautos set the kukri aside for a second, turning to look at Nyx. “Thought I’d bored you to sleep with all that sad past bullshit.”

“Hm? Oh.” Nyx bit his lower lip then shook his head. “No, you didn’t bore me. I guess… I was kinda wondering what you were like back then. You know, when you were younger.”

“What I was like? Huh.” Drautos picked the kukri back up and tilted the edge of it thoughtfully. “Hope you don’t mind me using this to cut the meat. We’re fresh outta chef’s knives, I’m afraid.”

“Well you’ve already used it to skin the thing.” Nyx did mind, as it happened, but well. What was he going to use them for right now, anyway? “And yeah, what you were like. I bet you weren’t so-” he waved a hand around, searching for the word, “-you know. Grumpy?”

Drautos laughed - a real life, honest laugh - and it sent a shiver up Nyx’s spine. 

“Grumpy, is it? Delightful.”

“Well, it’s either that or homicidal - take your pick.”

“Probably a mixture of both, I have to be honest.” 

Nyx laughed, then groaned as the movement sent a shock of pain through his back. “Okay, I gotta stop doing that.”

“Yeah, next thing you know, you’ll be enjoying yourself.” Drautos went to work cutting the Regaltrice meat into neat chunks, methodical and precise with each movement of the kukri.

Nyx watched him, entranced. The way the muscles in his forearms bunched and tightened with each cut; the way his brow furrowed in the middle with concentration. It was almost enough to make him forget what’d happened between them. Almost. 

“Alright, well that’s plenty of meat. Should see us through a few weeks, at least.” He set the kukri down and turned to Nyx again. “You’re suspiciously quiet, Ulric. What’s eating you.”

Nyx narrowed his eyes, but, frankly, his heart was hardly in it. “Just watching,” he replied. “It’s sort of interesting, never seen anyone do this stuff before.”

“What, you’ve never seen anyone prepare meat before?”

“That’s not what I meant!” Nyx hissed. “I mean  _ this _ . Us. Me and you. Ugh.” 

“Are you feeling right in the head, Ulric? You’re not making any sense.”

“Oh just fuck off, will you? Salt that damned meat or something, just. Stop talking.” He glared at the ceiling, pointedly ignoring the fact that he could  _ tell  _ Drautos was staring right back at him. He could feel it prickling against his skin, and he ached to shut that feeling up. To shut it out, go back to normal again. Back to hating this treacherous bastard.

Drautos shrugged, finally, and turned his singular attentions back to the task at hand. He had a stack of empty boxes which he’d pulled from Lord knew where, preparing to fill them with layers of meat and salt.

Nyx tried not to remember the way Drautos looked as he bent over, the curve of his back, those damn hulking shoulders. He tried not to wonder what it’d be like to be in front of him as he bent like that; pushing his dick into that mouth, hard and familiar and home - just like old times. Oh  _ fuck _ . He clenched his fingers tightly into the sleeping bag, willing the thoughts to go away. 

“We’ll be packing up as soon as I’ve finished here,” Drautos said conversationally, as though Nyx’s outburst had never happened. Why did he always have to  _ do that _ ? 

“Right. So you can, what, drive my crippled ass to Lestallum and then go your own fucking way?” Nyx snorted softly. “Great.”

There was the sound of clicking as Drautos closed up all of the plastic boxes. “You never do trust, do you.”

“Hard to trust you right now. Not sure if you remember that.”

“Impossible to forget. You’re like a Behemoth with a bone.” Drautos stacked the five boxes on top of each other and stood, looking down at Nyx with a strange expression on his face. “I’m not leaving you in Lestallum.” His eyes looked far away. “And I’m certainly not  _ going my own way. _ ”

Nyx huffed under his breath. Sure. 

“But I  _ am  _ going to drag your sorry ass all the way there and get you fixed up. Then we’ll see.”

“We’ll see what? I swear to the rains Drautos, speak fucking straight for once in your goddamn life!” Nyx’s voice broke under the strain of his emotion. “Or has talking your way around the truth become so much of a habit now?”

“I will take you to Lestallum,” Drautos ground out, as though he was chewing gravel, “and get you fixed up. And then I’ll drive you the whole way to Galahd if it’s the last thing I do!” He wasn’t shouting, not quite, but the words sent a fire through Nyx that’d he’d not felt in a long, long time. 

Galahd? Was it even still there? What would it be like, to stand on the threshold of his hearth and home, knowing it was this man who’d brought him there? Knowing that the rain fell on both of their heads, traitor and Glaive alike? Something blooming inside Nyx wanted to believe it was possible.

“Alright,” he said, finally, softly. “Maybe then we can eat some proper food in front of a proper hearth.” And maybe, somewhere along the way, he’d find some peace within himself once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I took a lot of liberties with Drautos' backstory! Also, although it feels as though him and Nyx should both come from Galahd (because of the Hearth and Home thing), the wiki is quite specific about the fact that Drautos' hometown was lost to the Nifs 30 years previous - timeline doesn't fit. So: *jazz hands*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally hit Lestallum, and everything for Drautos is a sage green hell of worrying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one, guys!

The car was roomy enough, even though it was very fancy, to comfortably seat Drautos with his legs stretched out. There was also plenty of room for Nyx to lay out on the back seat, padded with the sleeping bags they’d pilfered from the little cabin.

Drautos didn’t feel any regret for taking the supplies, and he certainly didn’t feel bad for cleaning out the food stores either. They had a more pressing need, and the hunters at Meldacio would always restock if they felt the need to. The fact that there were even supplies left in the cabin at all spoke a great length for how disused it’d become, and no wonder, what with the missing wall and all. 

No, this car was a huge improvement. There was even a radio, which Drautos had on quietly as they drove. 

“How far is it to Lestallum?” Nyx’s voice was just strong enough to be heard over the sound of the engine and the radio.

“Not too far,” Drautos called over his shoulder. “A day or so of driving and we should be there.”

“A solid day? Sure you can stay awake for that?”

Drautos snorted. “Sure I can. Can you?”

“Probably not. You got any shit to send me to sleep now? One of those war stories of yours, or something?”

Another snort. “Cheeky.” He was genuinely amused, though. It seemed that no matter how injured Nyx was, he could still find it within himself to be a shit. Although what part of that was a cover, Drautos didn’t know. 

He glanced in the rearview mirror, noting with displeasure the strain in Nyx’s face. “Too bumpy, huh? These roads are shit.” He slowed the car slightly, enough so that the bumps and potholes wouldn’t be quite as jarring to Nyx. The thought that he might be fucking him up even more was… well. Not a good one. Not worth thinking about. 

“Bumps, no bumps. It all hurts the same.” Nyx bit down on his bottom lip as they drove over a particularly rocky one. 

“Hurting is good. If you couldn’t feel anything, that’d be when we had to worry.”

Nyx hissed through his teeth, and Drautos glanced in the mirror at him again. 

“Who says I  _ can _ feel anything?”

Drautos blanched, knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. “It’s not directly in your spinal cord, you’ll be fine.” The words were perhaps as much for his own benefit as Nyx’s. “Doctors’ll sort you out. You’ll see.”

Nyx said nothing, but Drautos saw the way his lips thinned to a whitened line.

It wasn’t like him to talk so much, but Drautos was filled with the sudden need to fill the silence. “I’ve seen people recover from worse. And if not, there’s always-” Magitek. No. Not a good conversation topic. “-always other ways. There’s technology, these days. Can make a man do anything. Hell, even a suit of armour can heal you.” He was rambling. “Although that’s Nif tech, as you’re well aware…”

“What if it doesn’t work.” Nyx’s voice was quiet, but Drautos heard the desperation in it. “What if I never walk again?”

Drautos gripped the steering wheel even harder, thighs clenching with tension. “We’ll find a way. It’s just a damned bullet wound, Nyx, there has to be something we can do!”

Nyx laughed bitterly. “Might just be a bullet wound, but it’s right where it shouldn’t be. I’ve seen guys killed by a single bullet, you know it’s not that fucking simple.”

“Yeah.” Drautos chewed on his bottom lip, eyes staying fixed on the road rather than looking at the desolation in Nyx’s face. “Guess things never are that simple, are they?”

“Not in our lifetimes.”

“Hm.”

\- - -

It felt like forever, laying in that backseat. Desperately trying not to tense his body as they drove over the roads in bad repair. It seemed that not everything outside of Insomnia was as good as everyone inside it liked to think. Yeah, not exactly a surprise. 

Nyx’d found himself drifting off to the sounds of quiet radio, and the occasional deep and rusty humming coming from Drautos; possibly the most surprising thing about this whole situation. Nyx wondered whether he’d always been the type of guy to sing along to whatever music was in the background. For a brief moment, he felt a pang of regret that he never would get to see that side of his Captain. 

No, not his Captain any more. Just… Drautos, now. Not even Glauca, not really. When had that happened? When had that line blurred back into normalcy? Probably when Drautos had done more than his duty in caring for Nyx. Even though it was probably just guilt driving him, it was better than nothing, right? 

How pathetic was it, to cling onto such a tiny scrap of feeling? 

Well, tiny scrap or no, they were still pulling into Lestallum with plenty of time to find the hospital before darkness fell and the daemons emerged. Not that Nyx would be doing much of the finding. He would be relegated to more of a clinging function, at that point. Clinging and trying not to pass out from the pain of being moved, most likely. 

At least he couldn’t really feel his leg, right? Yeah, small mercies…

“Alright, map says the hospital’s somewhere near the power plant.” Drautos folded away the little map he’d whipped out from Lord knew where and climbed out of the car. “Pretty sure that’s not so far, so come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

Nyx held onto the backseat of the car as Drautos opened the door closest to his head, somehow managing to keep himself upright as his main form of support was removed. “Yeah, take your sweet time about it,” he growled, mostly to keep the pain at bay.

Drautos leaned inside the car and slid an arm behind Nyx’s back, lifting him forward enough that he could pull him from the backseat without much trouble. Nyx bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from crying out, but a grunt escaped as Drautos got his other arm underneath Nyx’s knees. 

Somehow, Drautos managed to straighten himself and close the back door with his hip, holding Nyx cradled against his chest like a fucking bride or something.

“Sure you can carry me the whole way?” Nyx turned his face away from Drautos’ chest - anything but looking up into that green-eyed gaze. 

Drautos just grunted in the affirmative and Nyx scowled. He hated the way he was so taciturn; hated the way he was so solid; hated the set of his jaw when he was determined to get something done. And he especially hated the way that his own legs dangled uselessly, that he couldn’t even feel one of them. Useless. Just like he was back then. Couldn’t save his home; couldn’t save his sister; couldn’t even save his own damned leg. 

The air was chilly, and Nyx couldn’t help but shiver against Drautos’ chest. How was the man so huge, anyway? It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed, but being pressed against him so intimately really brought it to life in a whole different way. “Is it far?” he mumbled.

“No, not far.” Drautos didn’t look down at him, but Nyx felt the way his body tensed. “How are you doing?”

“Mm, great.” Nyx held onto one of Drautos’ arms and dug his fingers in a little. “Just hurry, yeah?” His voice was tight, almost shamefully so, but what the hell was he meant to do about that? It was too late to be feeling self-conscious now. Hell, the man’d helped him piss and shit. What the fuck else was there to feel embarrassed about? 

He drifted as they walked; pain spiking through him occasionally, but he was so accustomed to it by now that he was able to basically ignore it. Drautos smelled good, he noticed, abstractly. His chest was warm and firm, and there was that damned leather smell too. Nyx never could smell leather without thinking of Drautos, after all the times they’d tangled. Too many memories, not enough time spent living them. Snatched moments in alleyways, the occasional corridor, maybe even someone’s flat if they were feeling adventurous. But never anything more. The scent of leather was of yearning; a sharp tang of loss mixed with anger. Never enough. 

Nyx was jerked back into wakefulness by the glare of electricity above him, sage green corridors to either side. Antiseptic on the air. He looked around muzzily, not quite focusing on what was happening.

There was a nurse, gentle voices, and he was suddenly cold and laying flat on something soft, but less pleasant than Drautos’ chest. A bed? The squeak of wheels, rustle of crisp white paper underneath him. A hand, gripping his shoulder gently before fingers trailed off and away. The loss cut deep, for a moment, and then the sweet release of nothingness washed over him.

\- - -

It felt like his life had blurred into one long, sage green mural of waiting. Waiting and annoyance, clenched fists and uncomfortable hospital chairs. Shit food and even shittier coffee.

Drautos slumped, legs stretched out in front of him in a last-ditch attempt to get comfortable on chairs not made for a man his size. On the chair next to him, there sat a stack of beige plastic coffee cups. On the chair to his right, his leather coat. The hospital was too warm at the same time as being almost too cold; or maybe that was just the waiting and anxiety fucking with him. 

It felt like ten years since one of the surgeons had gone through the two double doors in front of him. Fifteen years since the nurse had wheeled Nyx away, almost as white as the paper he laid upon. 

All he knew was that the operation was taking place. There was nothing else to tell him, sir, and would he please stop asking. He was making people nervous - an elderly man had moved seats to the complete opposite end of the waiting room after trying to make rickety conversation and being met with the Titus Drautos Special brick wall expression. 

There was a clock, and its tick was possibly the most infuriating sound Drautos had ever heard. He’d never had a problem with impatience; hell, he’d spent years as Glauca, perfecting the art of perfect, cat-like patience. Watching, waiting for that perfect moment. So what was it about this that was grinding on him so much? Maybe it was the lack of power. He’d never felt so powerless as when he’d been barred entry to that operating room, a stern hand on his chest from a man at least a foot shorter than him. 

It wasn’t until what must have been the fiftieth year that an exhausted-looking nurse walked through the double doors and beckoned at Drautos. He stood as though he was an ensign again, coming to attention without even thinking about it.

“He’s stable,” she said, voice clipped. “We managed to remove the bullet and more pieces of shrapnel embedded around the wound.” She rubbed one hand against her brow with a sigh. “You can see him when we get him into a ward room for the night.” 

Drautos opened his mouth to speak, but the nurse held up her hand to halt him. 

“You can stay; you  _ are  _ next of kin, aren’t you sir?” She didn’t wait for a response before turning and leaving back through the double doors. 

Drautos just gaped after her, then gathered himself together. His heart was pounding, and he took a few deep breaths before bending down and clearing away his stack of coffee cups. He dumped them into the bin at the end of the row of chairs and then walked back to pick up his jacket and sling it over his arm.

The pacing resumed until the nurse came back again, beckoning him over. “Would you like to go home and collect some of his belongings, before settling down for the night?”

Drautos was silent for a second, then he shook his head. “No, we were only in town for a holiday. Don’t have any belongings to fetch.” 

She looked at him quizzically, but then sighed. “Alright, well it’s this way. And try to keep the volume down, there are patients sleeping at this hour.”

He resisted saluting; just suppressed a grim smile and followed as the nurse led the way through more sage green corridors than he could count, until they reached a set of doors opening out into little rooms, of the type usually set aside for high-risk patients. 

Nyx was inside, pale as death against those white sheets again, hooked up to a machine which beeped steadily just at hearing level. Drautos didn’t hear the nurse’s final words; just nodded his obedience and entered the room, soft as a ghost. 

Someone had set up a camp bed for him, on low metal legs. It was made up with the same sterile white sheets as Nyx’s bed, and two fat pillows laid at one end. 

On the other side, the machine. A drip, piercing Nyx’s skin like a safety pin through gauze. He didn’t move, and Drautos could barely look at him without feeling a twinge of pain deep inside him. Guilt, too. Always that.

He sat down heavily on the side of the bed, taking Nyx’s drip-free hand in his own larger one. It was incongruously warm, considering the prone state Nyx was in. He’d almost expected it to be cold as a corpse.

If he looked carefully, Drautos could see the gentle rise and fall of Nyx’s chest, and in that moment, he let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. A wash of something flooded through him, getting stuck in his throat on the way up. Maybe it was going to be alright after all.

Drautos bent over, rubbing his thumb over the back of Nyx’s hand. He pressed his forehead to Nyx’s, closing his eyes and taking a minute to just  _ breathe _ . It felt like everything had just been too much, lately. It was, frankly, beginning to overwhelm him a little, and that was a scary truth to confront. When did he get so old as to be overwhelmed by something like this? Or maybe it was just… Nyx. 

He opened his eyes, looking down at those dark, dark lashes; nuzzling his nose alongside Nyx’s; wondering, not for the first time, just what his tattoos meant. Without thinking about it, Drautos pressed his lips to Nyx’s. Soft, oh so soft, and fleeting like a moment of peace on a battlefield. 

With a deep, shuddering sigh, he straightened back up again and forced himself to let go of Nyx’s hand. He was going to be alright. Drautos could finally sleep. 

The exhaustion set in all at once; an adrenaline crash after being on edge for so damned long. The camp bed was hard, and just too short for someone of his height, but Drautos couldn’t find it within himself to care. He pulled the sheets over himself, still clothed and toes touching the metal frame of the bed. 

The pillow felt like the softest thing he’d ever slept on - a clear improvement on the balled up jacket that’d become his friend in the last week or so - and almost the minute he pressed his face to it, Drautos was asleep. The steady sound of monitors beeping echoed his own breathing and followed him into mercifully dreamless sleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be my last update for a while, as I'm having surgery on that pesky carpal tunnel and ulnar nerve of mine! Sorry to leave u guys in the lurch, but meanwhile: Enjoy!! *jazz hands*

Nyx’s eyes felt like grit when he opened them. The harsh hospital lights above him made him wince, but his eyes adjusted after what felt like an eternity. Ugh, he felt like complete and utter shit.

He tried to raise his hand to rub the grit from his eyes, but it was brought up short by the cannula in the back of it; tubes running from it and into a bag hanging a little above Nyx’s head.

Turning in that direction brought another shock to light; a camp bed, from what Nyx could tell from the corner of his eye. And, no less, a camp bed containing one Titus Drautos. Asleep, like a goddamn baby. The nerve of him.

“Hey,” Nyx croaked, trying to get as much volume into his voice as he could. It came out more like a sad toad. “Hey asshole, wake up!” A little better.

Titus stirred then sat upright in a slide of sheets, pillow flopping off the edge of the bed behind him. “You’re awake,” he said, voice blurred with sleep. “Are you alright? How are you feeling?” He shifted enough that he could perch on the edge of the hospital bed, looking down at Nyx with such open and naked concern that it was almost worrying.

“Wow, what’s eating you? Anyone’d think I almost died or something.” Nyx smiled weakly, all show.

“Oh, something about the worry combined with two days straight of being awake that does it.” Titus smiled wryly. He reached down and brushed a strand of hair out of Nyx’s eyes, then pulled his hand back as if realising what he was doing and suddenly thinking better of it.

“So what happened, anyway?”

“Transfusion happened.” Titus scrubbed his eyes with both hands, coming up looking a little less dazed. “Hours of surgery. Apparently those pieces of shrapnel were buried this close-” he held up his thumb and forefinger, about a centimetre apart, “to your spinal cord. Any more to the right and they’d have left you paralysed for real.”

Nyx swallowed, throat suddenly dry. He stared right at Titus, unable to look away from those green eyes of his. It was his fault; all of this shit was his fault. So why was there a not-so-distant memory floating to the surface of lips brushing against his own; a forehead press; a tiny semblance of raw human emotion? And why the fuck was he _happy_ to think about that?

“Yeah, lucky me, huh,” Nyx said, finally. “Any water in this place, or do I have to die of thirst first?”

“Sure, there’s a jug on the table.” Titus stood, his absence leaving Nyx’s bed feeling suddenly bereft.

He watched as Titus poured a cup then set the jug back down on the little wheely table; watched as he walked back over to the bed - left side, this time - watched as something tender and soft flashed across that stone face before being tucked away, as if for later. Something to be held and examined in private only.

“Only a little at first.” Titus pressed the glass against Nyx’s lips and tilted it just enough to allow a trickle of water to pass across them.

Nyx swallowed greedily, then felt the twinge of his stomach in response. Slowly, yeah. He lifted his head a little, eyes connecting with Titus’ as he took another few tiny sips. The water was cold, and felt like the best thing he’d ever tasted.

Titus moved the glass away after a few more sips, setting it down on the tall bedside cabinet.

“So how long do I have to stay here?” Nyx’s eyes darted across Titus’ face, watching for any telltale signs of lies.

Titus sighed, scrubbing a big hand across his face. “The doctor said you need to recover your strength. And then there’s the physiotherapy.”

“Great, I love physiotherapy.” Nyx grimaced. It felt like the walls of this place were closing in on him; stale air, antiseptic hospital smell, those damn sickly green walls. If he didn’t get some fresh air on his face, it felt like he would slowly shrivel and die. “How long,” he ground out, finally.

“I don’t know. They weren’t exactly what I’d call specific.” Titus reached out and took Nyx’s hand. Nyx stared at it like it was something foreign, tongue darting out across his bottom lip. “How do you _really_ feel, Nyx?”

He swallowed. “Yeah, I feel great.” His hand felt clammy under Titus’, but he didn’t find it within himself to move it out of the way. “I mean, I still can’t really feel anything, I don’t think.” He furrowed his brow, concentrating on the way his body _felt_ ; stilling himself as he tried to just listen to it. Was that the faint ghost of a sensation, there in his thigh? Like the beginning prickle of pins and needles; or maybe he was just imagining it. Willing sensation into his leg when there was nothing there to begin with.

“Well, I’m sure they have special poking sticks for this, but here, let me try-” Titus let go of Nyx’s hand and pressed his fingertip gently against the side of his thigh. “Can you feel that?”

Nyx screwed up his face, focusing intently on his thigh. “No, I can’t. What are you doing, stroking a fucking cat? Press harder.”

Titus obliged, pressing his forefinger directly into the meat of Nyx’s thigh. Nyx gasped. There was something! And- shit! It hurt. And that was… novel.

He squinted up at Titus, glaring as much as he could manage when, in reality, he was just more relieved than anything else. That pain, the fact that he could _feel it_ \- it was the best thing in the world.

“Are- are you crying?” Titus bent forward, concern written on his face as clear as the dawn.

“No, course I’m not.” Nyx’s voice was gruff, but he could hardly hide it. He reached up and dashed the tears away from his eyes, cheeks burning with shame.

Titus’ face crinkled into a smile, and he ducked his head, giving Nyx some privacy to sort himself out. “Of course you’re not.”

After he felt like he could speak without his voice choking, Nyx patted Titus on the back of the hand. “So what do you reckon, a week?”

Titus frowned as he thought. “I think we might be able to wrangle them down to less.” He looked down at Nyx again, their eyes meeting with shared understanding. “I know you’re eager to get out of here, so if all else fails you can always self-discharge.”

Nyx chuckled. “Yeah, like a good little patient. Not.” He quieted, though, stilling the fluttering questions in his stomach. “So what’s the plan?” His voice held steady, thankfully, and he held Titus’ gaze, willing him to still say the same thing.

“The plan hasn’t changed, you can stop asking.” Titus’ voice was soft, and he settled his hand atop Nyx’s once more. “I mean to keep my word. This time.”

There it was, that relief again. It drifted over Nyx like a soft spatter of rainfall, blown by the breeze. “Good,” he breathed, feeling it in his belly, sure as the sunrise.

 - - -

Nyx’s decision didn’t sit well with the doctor. Of course. Drautos’ shoulders felt like they were up around his ears by the time they were halfway through their heated discussion, and, finally, he could stomach no more.

He slapped both hands down on Nyx’s wheeled table and stood up, straightening to his full height. It helped that the doctor was about half a foot shorter than him, and Drautos looked down at him with a grim smile. “The man said he wanted to self-discharge,” he said, quiet and firm, with that old surety that his word would not be disobeyed. “It would be in your best interests to get him fixed up with the correct paperwork for that.”

The doctor quavered for a second - longer than Drautos’ would have given him credit for - then acquiesced, holding out the clipboard and paperwork like a shield. “Sign on the dotted line,” he said with barely-disguised annoyance, “to show that you understand the risks of being discharged before the recommendation of your doctor and surgeons.”

“Yeah, I understand the risks.” Nyx took the offered pen and signed his name, a lot more sloppy than he usually would. Whether through pain or eagerness, Drautos couldn’t tell, but the paperwork was done and back in the doctor’s hands quickly enough.

Drautos couldn’t help but watch in amusement as the doctor hurried back out of the room, only to hurry back in again five minutes later, clutching a handful of colourful leaflets.

“These are for your physiotherapy,” he said, setting the pile down on Nyx’s bed. “I expect you to do these exercises every day, increasing as the plan progresses.”

“He’ll do them, don’t you worry.” Drautos beetle-browed at Nyx, who smirked.

“Just like being a cadet all over again.”

“Yeah, only this time maybe with less swearing from you.”

“Hah, you wish.” Nyx picked up the leaflets and flipped idly through the pile. “Wow, that’s a lot of exercises. Gonna take me three hours to get through these.”

“And then the next day, you get to do it all over again.”

Nyx grimaced. “Alright, don’t remind me.” He looked up at the doctor, almost looking vulnerable for a second before the expression disappeared. “Can I, uh. Can I get some pain meds before we go?”

A sigh from the doctor, and Drautos was about to say something sharp before he was cut off.

“Yes, of course you can. I’m hardly going to send you away without anything, even if I _do_ think you’re making the wrong decision.”

Drautos sighed with internal relief. Saved him from having to get all up in this guy’s business again, at least. “Okay, good. Make sure it’s a good supply, we won’t be seeing another hospital for a while.”

The doctor looked at Drautos sharply, but there was no fight left in him. He nodded, curt, then left them to it.

“I thought he was gonna tie me to the bed or something,” Nyx said, relief tingeing his voice as they were finally alone.

“Hah, I’d like to see him try.” Drautos picked up the bunch of leaflets, checking out the cover of the topmost one. “He wouldn’t get far, even with you in this state.”

Nyx sniggered. “Yeah, he had no idea what he was dealing with. I remember that look, you used to do that to me and the other guys when we’d fucked up.” He shuffled forwards in the bed, managing to push himself up and off the stack of pillows, legs swinging sideways until they hung gingerly off the edge of the bed. “You had a similar look from out of that fucking helmet of yours, too.” His face grew dark, eyes far away all of a sudden.

The memory came flooding back to Drautos; how hot it was inside the armour, the way his own blood tasted on his tongue as they fought. He moved in front of Nyx, bending over a little so he could help him to get out of the bed.

“No.” Nyx’s voice was harsh, his face set. “Not this time.” He reached up and pushed Drautos, both palms against his chest and then moving up to his shoulders. Nyx pushed again, more insistently, and Drautos couldn’t help but go to his knees.

The position was a little awkward, considering the relative height of the hospital bed, but he was a big man, and he found himself face to face with Nyx’s crotch, hands on his shoulders holding him firmly in place.

“I don’t know what the fuck this is,” Nyx began, grinding the words out between his teeth, “but you’re not the one in charge here. Not any more.”

Drautos’ eyes widened, and he looked up into Nyx’s, seeing nothing but fire and resolve there. “You need this? Sure.” He settled both his hands on Nyx’s thighs, lightly, oh so lightly, never dropping his gaze.

“I don’t fucking _know_ what I need, Drautos. Just- shut up, will you?” Nyx reached out and ran his fingers across the top of Drautos’ head; the sensation tingling through his scalp and straight to his crotch.

Drautos shuffled on his knees, feeling the tug in his back as he kept himself upright. Without saying a word, he slid his palms across Nyx’s thighs, pushing back the blankets and revealing bare legs covered only by a backless hospital gown.

Nyx pulled the gown up with one hand, exposing himself at the same time his fingers flexed against Drautos’ head, forcing it forward until his mouth brushed the base of Nyx’s dick.

Drautos swallowed; it’d been a hell of a long time since he’d sucked anyone off - in fact, Nyx was the last person he’d done that to, and it’d been entirely on his own terms. This? This was something different; something powerful. Nyx needed it, and that? That made Drautos feel something deep in the pit of his stomach.

His own dick twitched, and Drautos unconsciously licked his lips. His tongue dragged across Nyx’s balls then into his mouth again, and he gasped under his breath as Nyx let out an ungodly moan. Hushed, but it didn’t need to be loud to have that effect on Drautos.

He felt Nyx’s hand tighten against his head, then he was being forced closer, nuzzling up against Nyx’s dick and fuck, it was so _hard_. Drautos kissed the length of it, that pressure at his head never letting up as he praised it with his lips and with his tongue, breathing out his regret and his pain and that unspoken feeling that danced in his belly, never letting up, not even for a second.

Drautos parted his lips and allowed Nyx to push the head of his dick between them. That initial pressure forced his mouth to open wider, and he choked as Nyx fucked into his mouth in one hard stroke, bumping the back of his throat.

God, he hadn’t thought Nyx was so big. He figured everything looked different from this angle, and the way Nyx was holding him in place, well, that was different too.

Drautos managed to get his breathing under control, exhaling hard through his nose and closing his eyes until he got himself calmed. No sooner had he relaxed his body, Nyx began fucking his mouth in earnest, holding his head with hard fingers, never letting up for a second.

He fumbled in front of him until his hand landed on Nyx’s balls and he squeezed - not too hard to be painful, just enough to make a point.

Nyx let out a grunt of laughter and brought up his free hand to cup Drautos’ cheek. “No touching,” he breathed, then slid his hand down to wrap his fingers around Drautos’ throat. Drautos imagined Nyx could feel his own dick through it, and the thought was strangely erotic. He found his eyelids fluttering, hips canting forward in a desperate attempt to get some friction against his own dick.

Noticing the movement, Nyx tightened his fingers around Drautos’ neck, pulse hammering against his fingertips as he fucked his mouth with near-abandon; the only thing holding him back was his healing body.

Abstractly, Drautos imagined the doctor walking back into the room, taking in the scene with that mildly bewildered expression of his. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it, as Nyx came down his throat without a warning; coming in thick ropes as though he hadn’t done so for years.

Hell, maybe it had been that long. It felt like years since they’d been on the road, let alone since Drautos had had the time and inclination enough to even touch himself.

He swallowed thickly, unable to do much else as Nyx’s punishing grip didn’t let up. He would have bruises blossoming soon, Drautos thought with amusement. His own set of little medals, circling his throat and proclaiming him property. An interesting thought indeed, and one to savour later. Perhaps in the silence and comfort of darkness, where he could touch himself at his leisure without the looming threat of doctors walking back into the room at any minute.

Drautos sat back and reached up to wipe his mouth, only to have Nyx move his hand away and gently swipe his thumb across Drautos’ bottom lip.

“That was, uh-” Nyx began, face flushing. “Yeah.”

“It most definitely was.” Drautos got to his feet once more, unsure of where they stood together, but certain that there was something there between them, even if it was just physical on Nyx’s part. That was something to worry about later.

 - - -

Nyx smacked the back of the front seat with his hand, jerking Drautos forward a little. “Hey, turn that shitty rado off, would you? If I have to listen to one more charts song I might be tempted to throw myself out of this window.”

Drautos glanced up into the rear mirror and Nyx caught his eye, flashing him a glare. “I don’t know, I sort of like it.”

Nyx hit the back of the chair again. “You’re just doing it to piss me off.”

“And you’re just easy to piss off because you’re in pain again.” Drautos’ eyes went back to the road, but an amused smile played on his lips. Infuriating bastard.

“And I wouldn’t be in so much pain if it wasn’t for you,” Nyx hissed, rubbing his thigh out of habit. It didn’t help, but the warmth from his palm felt better than nothing.

“No, you wouldn’t.” Drautos turned off the radio, then tapped the digital clock on the dashboard. “It’s getting late, I’m going to pull over for the night. There’s a parking spot with a caravan ten minutes from here.” He turned his head slightly, one of those strange looks tugging at the corner of his eyes.

Nyx didn’t know what to do about those looks; they’d been happening more and more frequently, lately, and they did something strange in his belly that he couldn’t begin to parse. All he knew is that he was feeling something too, deep inside, and that it was translating itself into his goddamn dreams by now. Waking up on a morning, achingly hard, his back pressed against Drautos’ much bigger, solid one. Sharing body heat, that was the excuse. Some excuse.

“Great, another caravan.” The grumbling was half-hearted, though. A caravan was a damn sight better than another night in the back of the car. “At least there’ll be a bed afterwards. I swear these physio exercises are getting harder every day.”

Drautos chuckled, the sound hitting Nyx straight in the gut. Why did he have to have that stupid fucking voice?

“If they stayed the same, you wouldn’t feel the benefit. You know that.” His words were bordering on disapproving, but Nyx knew those words to his very bones. He’d heard them often enough when he was just a cadet, sweating through hundreds of push-ups, hours of deadlifts, warp after warp until he got it just perfect, blood singing with adrenaline and magic.

“Yeah yeah, preaching to the choir Titus.” And when, exactly, had it become so easy, so natural, to think of him like that? Just as Titus, and not Drautos, his captain. Or hell, even Glauca, the traitorous bastard that he was. Shit, he really was fucked.

He stared out of the window, watching the scenery roll by. Couldn’t even begin to guess where they were, but all that mattered was that he’d be getting some fresh air soon enough. Fresh air and pain, of course, and with an extra helping of that strange, uneasy closeness they’d both been sharing over the past few days. Titus holding his feet down as he attempted sit ups, laid on the floor in front of him as he forced himself over that damnable foam roller, tears beading in the corners of his eyes as his muscles crunched their way over it.

It was getting too much. But, at the same time, it was nowhere near enough. That blowjob in the hospital room - they hadn’t even breathed one word about it since. But Nyx still thought about it at night, when he lay there against Titus’ broad warmth. He still remembered the rush of power he’d felt, holding his head in place like that. And, Lord save him, he still remembered the way Titus’ lips had felt against his own, even if he was semi-conscious at the time.

Nyx shook his head, and then they were parking up and Titus was doing his usual bluffy show of going to help Nyx out of the car, then backing off as if to give him space, only to place a protective hand at the small of his back, always on his right side and never on the painful one.

“See, isn’t this nice.” Titus gestured at the caravan, the little circle of charred ground where a fire had previously been lit.

“Yeah, looks just as nice as the other five caravans we’ve stayed in.” Nyx leaned against Titus, letting himself enjoy it. Savouring the warmth, the closeness.

“Hey, I heard this one even has a double bed.” Titus chuckled, and Nyx stared at him, wondering whether the same thoughts were flashing through his head as his own just then.

“Huh, where’d you hear that?”

“The last gas station. Guy said there’s three more rest stops between here and the next big town, then we’re only a couple more days from Galahd.”

“So we get what, another week or so of this-” Nyx gestured at the caravan, unconsciously mimicking Titus’ action.

“Fresh air, long roads and peaceful quiet? Yeah.”

“It’s kinda nice, not being known or recognised, isn’t it?”

Titus went quiet, then, and helped Nyx to sit down on the steps of the caravan. “Yeah, it is. And, you know. Plenty of time to think.”

Nyx cocked his head, looking up at Titus. “About what?”

“Mistakes, mostly. Home, a lot of the time.” Titus’ voice was quiet, but Nyx could feel the emotion almost radiating from him.

“Do you ever think about this?” Nyx gestured vaguely between the two of them. “You know. Whatever the hell _this_ is, between us?”

“What do you want it to be?”

“That is _not_ an answer, Titus.” Nyx narrowed his eyes, then jabbed at the floor in front of him. “Sit down there, help me do my physio, and then we’ll talk.”

Titus grumbled deep in his chest, but he sat down obediently.

Nyx felt that same power flush through him, and he took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Not too great, getting a hard-on when you were going to be doing sit ups in two minutes. Not so great for the flexibility.

“So. This.”

“I thought you wanted to do your physio first,” Titus began, but he soon shut up after seeing Nyx’s glare. “Alright alright, this then.” He heaved a sigh, then rubbed his eyes with one big hand.

Nyx watched his movement, memories of those hands on his body, and ugh. Not helping!

“Truth is, I don’t know what it is. I mean, you hate me. And with good reason, I might add. But then there’s whatever the fuck _that_ was in the hospital, and I liked it. I really-” Titus’ voice broke, and he swallowed, “ _-really_ liked it. And I want to do it again, but how do you even go about asking that kind of question anyway?”

Nyx raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe try ‘hey Nyx, you wanna get sucked off again? Because I’d be really down for that.’ Maybe that could work.”

Titus laughed; that short, sharp bark of a laugh that always tumbled out whenever he was surprised by something. “Yeah, maybe it would. So, okay, Nyx Ulric. You wanna get sucked off again?” He looked directly into Nyx’s eyes, holding his gaze. “Because I would _really_ be down for that.”

It was Nyx’s turn to swallow. He felt blood rush to his crotch, and this time, didn’t want to do a thing about it. “I think I’d like that too.” The words came out in a broken whisper, and Nyx cleared his throat, trying to ignore the throb in his belly and the twist of anxiety that followed it. “I think I’d like more than that, actually.”

“Hmm, well maybe we can do something about that. This caravan _does_ have a double bed, after all.”

And okay, so maybe it wasn’t the fairytale setting or anything even remotely like it, but that sounded like the best thing Nyx had heard in a long time. He shifted position slightly, then a pain shot lanced through his back and thigh with a vengeance.

“Alright, no,” he gasped, reaching out unconsciously for Titus. “Physio first.”

Titus was at his side before he could even finish his sentence, reaching down to help Nyx stand. “You sure you shouldn’t be resting, first?” His arm was around Nyx’s waist, holding him close.

“I’m sure. I need to stretch, all that time in the car isn’t good, remember?”

Titus chuckled, and Nyx felt it rumble through his chest like the pleased purr of a lion. “I’ll get the foam roller.”

Nyx hit him on the chest. “I fucking hate you.” But, for the first time in Lord knew how long, that wasn’t actually true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there, something Finally Happened!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this was so long in the making! I'm recovered from my carpal tunnel/ulnar op, and back at (almost) optimum writing speed again! As a thank you for sticking with me so far, and a present for waiting so long, here's PORN!!! /jazzhands

The caravan was cool and dim inside, and, even though Nyx had to be helped up the stairs, he found himself glad of it. He took a deep breath, taking in the slightly musty, un-lived-in scent of the caravan.

“Well, it’s not too bad,” Titus said next to him, one arm around his waist still. For support, of course, but it was probably also for pleasure too. And Nyx definitely wasn’t going to complain about that. 

“And look, double bed. Just like you said.”

Titus chuckled, helping Nyx get there and then sit himself down on the bed with a groan. “How is it?”

Nyx gave it a tiny, experimental bounce, and smiled toothily up at Titus through his pain. “Bouncier than the last one.” He bounced once more, then groaned loudly. “Ah shit, remind me not to do that again, would you?”

“Well, you did just use the foam roller, remember?”

“Lord, don’t remind me.” Nyx laid himself gently backwards, legs hanging over the edge of the bed. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the dull throbbing in his legs and hips, the sharp twinges through his back. 

Titus loomed over him, a strange smile on his face. “I think you need some distraction.”

Nyx lifted his head up and grinned. “Oh yeah, I remember you saying something about  _ distraction _ .”

“Pretty sure it was more about you letting me give you a blowjob, to be precise.”

“Oh sure, gotta be precise.” Nyx attempted to sit up, but only managed a groan and a wince. He flopped backwards again and raised a hand to pull Titus down next to him. 

Titus was much taller than him, but his legs also hung off the bed so the difference wasn’t so pronounced. “So,” he said, leaning on his elbow and looking down at Nyx.

“So.”

The atmosphere was a little tense for a second; only broken by another wince from Nyx. “Okay, the edge of the bed is not a good place for me to be laying right now. Help me further up, would you?”

Titus obliged, and together they managed to get Nyx on the bed proper, his head on two squashy pillows. “I have an idea,” he said, before hoisting himself up from the bed. “You stay there, I’ll be right back.”

Nyx glared at him, but it lacked any of the old heat. 

True to his word, Titus was indeed only a moment. He appeared back in the caravan once more, holding their toiletries bag. “Now, roll over,” he said with a slow smile.

“Uh, excuse me?” Nyx raised an eyebrow, but with some difficulty, managed to get himself onto his front. “So do I need clothes for this, or?”

The bed dipped under Titus’ weight, and Nyx almost jumped at the sound of his voice; closer than he’d expected. “Not having clothes would be beneficial,” he said, humour tingeing his voice. “Will you let me help?”

Nyx raised an eyebrow into the pillow, but shrugged his shoulders anyway. “Sure, why not,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, as though it didn’t thrill every part of his body to think of Titus undressing him. Hell, they’d done this shit countless times in the past - why the hell did it feel so… different?

Titus was gentle; lifting Nyx’s t-shirt from the bottom and gathering it under his arms. He moved onto the loose jogging pants then, tugging them down, again with so much gentleness it made Nyx ache. He let them gather around Nyx’s calves and then sat back.

Nyx felt the distance immediately; a sudden lack of warmth that made him press his head into the pillow. Somehow, not knowing what the hell Titus was going to do made everything all the more excruciating. 

When cool, oiled hands touched his shoulder blades, Nyx nearly jumped out of his skin. “Ah! A little warning next time!”

“Mm, sorry about that,” Titus rumbled above him. It felt as though he was too close and too far at the same time, and Nyx turned his head towards the direction of his presence, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. 

Titus was sat on the side of the bed, body turned towards Nyx’s and a strange expression on his face. He placed his hands on Nyx’s shoulder blades again, this time, smoothing his oiled fingers across them with deft, sure sweeps. 

Nyx groaned, eyes fluttering closed. “Shit, Titus!”

“Feels good, huh?”

“Ah, yeah, shit. It feels amazing. When the hell did you learn how to massage?”

“I didn’t exactly learn,” Titus replied as he moved his attentions down Nyx’s back, his touch lightening as he reached the sorest areas. “It was more of a trial and error thing.”

“Well you’re damn good with your hands, so I guess I should have figured.” Nyx let out a long sigh, but it turned into a yelp as Titus dug in slightly harder on his left side. Not injured, but it still hurt like hell. “Hey, watch it!”

“Sorry. You’ve a lot of tension here; must be from carrying yourself lop-sided with the pain.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Nyx managed to grunt out between gritted teeth. “That damn roller doesn’t help, either.”

“I know, I know,” Titus soothed, although Nyx knew he was just humouring him. He also knew that the foam roller did indeed help, although the fact that it also hurt like a bitch at the same time did not make him think fondly of it. 

Titus smoothed his palms back outwards in long sweeps and Nyx felt himself relax into the strokes. It was an improvement on the unforgiving way the roller crunched across every part of his muscles, and there was a pleasant scent to the oil that almost had him drifting off.

Titus was gentle around his wound, although he did give it some attention with the oil; allowing it to soak in. It would aid in the healing, Nyx knew, and at the same time, it felt strangely good. The wound itself was tender, but numb around the stitched area in a way he’d felt before, but forgotten the precise sensation of. 

“I’m gonna move down to your thigh now,” Titus warned; meaning that he would be moving across Nyx’s ass with the same precise, gentle strokes as the rest of him.

“Mmf,” Nyx replied, the sound coming out somewhat strangled. He could totally handle this, couldn’t he? Well, no time to protest, as Titus’ palms worked their way down and across, kneading and working his muscles in the most amazing way. 

He was immediately brought back to memories of the last time Titus’d had his hands right there, on his ass, and a groan slipped from Nyx’s lips before he could stifle it. Luckily for him, the pillow muffled most of the sound, but a pleased grunt from above him told Nyx that Titus had heard, and that he approved. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Titus’ fingers kneaded their way down Nyx’s thighs, never exerting more pressure than he thought Nyx could take. “Are you nice and relaxed, yet?”

“You kidding?” Nyx’s words were still muffled. “I could fall asleep right here and now. What’s in that oil, anyway? Chloroform?”

Titus laughed that deep, sonorous laugh of his, and Nyx felt his stomach curl from the sound of it. “Yeah, definitely chloroform. It’s one way to get you to sleep properly, right?” 

Nyx smirked into the pillow. “You know you don’t have to use underhanded methods to get me into bed, Titus.”

Another laugh. “News to me, but thanks for letting me know.” He smoothed his palms across Nyx’s thighs, gentle near the wound’s sensitive skin. “Alright, that’s phase one. Roll back over now.”

He didn’t even have time to protest before Titus had leaned forward, supporting him as he rolled back over. 

“What are you planning now?” Nyx mumbled, feeling drowsy and boneless. His muscles didn’t ache so much any more; instead they felt warm and tingly, and he had the biggest urge to just curl up in front of Titus and sleep. 

“Wait and see.” Titus moved a pillow so it was behind Nyx, propping him up slightly. He went to his knees on the bed and then bent over, managing to remove Nyx’s joggers all the way this time. He dropped them at the side of the bed, along with the boxers which had got bundled up inside.

Bending over, Titus pressed a kiss to Nyx’s stomach, then to his hipbone, and then to the delicious space between. 

Nyx felt his stomach quiver at the attention, then he gasped as Titus slid his mouth over the head of his dick. “Ah shit,” he breathed, fingers grasping for his hair, the bedsheets, anything. “That’s unfair!”

Titus smiled around Nyx’s dick, rubbing his tongue in the little dip there. He let go for a moment, grinning wolfishly up at Nyx. “Who said anything about fair? Besides, the best way to relax is endorphines, right? And they’re a painkiller, too.” He didn’t give Nyx time to reply, before bending once more, this time taking the whole length of Nyx’s dick into his mouth.

All Nyx could do was lay back and enjoy it, trying to allow himself to relax, not to arch up off the bed too much or push his muscles too hard. And Titus was taking it slow, lavishing attention on him until Nyx could barely think.

And then the next thing he knew, Titus was gently lifting him up to push a pillow under his hips, that sinful mouth no longer on his dick. Nyx opened his mouth to complain, but then Titus brushed his nose against Nyx’s balls, then nudged his tongue against his entrance, lapping at it.

Nyx moaned, his fingers reaching for Titus’ head this time. “Lord above, Titus, I don’t think I can handle this for much-” His words were cut off with a hiss as Titus pushed his tongue inside, licking him open and chasing it with a finger while his free hand gently stroked Nyx’s dick with that little twist at the end that he knew he loved.

He didn’t let up for a minute, not even when Nyx was writhing stiffly beneath his ministrations; not even when Nyx’s fingers tightened against his head once more, knuckles whitening as his orgasm crashed through him. 

Titus came up for breath, his face and head sticky with Nyx’s come. He smiled like a wild thing, licking it from his lips with relish. “How was that for relaxation?”

Nyx panted, looking down at Titus with an expression of sheer bliss. “I’m fucking dead,” he managed to get out, between breaths. “But damn you, I want more.”

Titus raised an eyebrow, then allowed himself a moment to palm his own somewhat painful erection through his trousers. He chuckled deep in his chest. “A full physio session and all that, and you still want more. God, I’ve missed this.” 

Nyx flashed Titus a grin. Even though he was indeed aching everywhere, the flood of endorphins had given him some energy back and he found himself craving Titus’ bulk. His dick was huge, and Nyx’d never managed to get enough of it, no matter how many times they’d fucked in the past. And besides, this was… different now, between them. Something more; more than just fucking in alleyways, and after work. He couldn’t articulate it yet, but the warmth in his chest sat heavy and comfortable, these days. 

“Come on,” he urged Titus, “fuck me.”

With a groan, Titus unfastened his trousers enough to get his dick out. He slathered it in the oil he’d used earlier, then pushed the thick, blunt head against Nyx’s entrance. “Without proper prep? You sure?”

“Titus, I just fucking  _ came _ . Stop treating me like a doll and fuck me already!” Nyx grabbed Titus’ thigh and dug in his fingers, hard. He noticed, abstractly, that Titus still had a streak of come on his cheek, but then the thought was driven out of his mind by the pressure of Titus’ dick, pushing and pushing until the head sat just inside. 

Titus held himself still for a moment - he knew what that did to Nyx, the bastard - before pushing himself the whole way inside. He was careful not to lean too hard against Nyx, and not to touch his wounds; instead, he braced himself on the bed with one hand, and cradled Nyx’s cheek with his other.

The pillow under Nyx’s hips gave him an altered angle, allowing Titus to plunge deeper inside, all the way to his balls. Nyx held Titus close with both arms, pressing their foreheads together as they breathed in unison.

Titus fucked him soft and slow, barely pulling out, but managing to nudge against Nyx’s prostate with every intense thrust. He moved to kiss Nyx deeply, slipping his tongue inside with a long groan. 

Nyx returned the kiss; not lifting himself from the bed, but allowing Titus to do all of the work. He could barely raise his ass to each thrust, so it was well that he had a pillow underneath him for support. “Deeper,” he murmured, breaking apart from the kiss for a second. “Come on, deeper.”

“How much more do you think I have?” Titus huffed out a laugh, but it was hoarse with lust. “Alright, I’m just going to-” he bent forward and lifted Nyx a little, settling back down on his haunches, toes braced against the mattress. The position allowed him to pull Nyx up so he was basically laying on Titus’ thighs, giving him a whole different angle that made Nyx shudder as Titus slid deeper.

“Ah shit,” he moaned, “yeah, that’s it.” Nyx’s head rolled back onto the bed and he closed his eyes, feeling every movement all the way to his toes. He slid a hand down his stomach and took hold of his dick, still sensitive, but hard all over again. 

Nyx hissed at the contact, and then hissed again as Titus’ hand joined him. “Hey, careful,” he hissed, eyes narrowed. “I’m still-” he gasped as Titus ran his thumb along the head of his dick, dipping into the slit still smeared with come; coating it anew with oil. “Still sensitive, you bastard.”

Titus chuckled again, but he loosened his grip, allowing his fingers to just glide over Nyx’s dick, reddened and leaking a little all over again. “There, how’s that?” He circled his hand around, adding a little more oil into his palm before slicking it over Nyx’s dick once more. 

Nyx just groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “If you go on like that, I’m definitely not gonna last much longer.”

“Who says I need you to? Come again, if you want.” Titus’ voice was low and dangerous, and he rolled his hips, holding Nyx in place with one hand on his uninjured hip as he jerked him off with the other. “I can’t promise I’ll last either.” This was quieter, and Nyx’s eyes snapped open to hold Titus’ gaze.

“Come then,” he whispered, clenching his ass around that amazing dick. He didn’t think he’d ever grow tired of just how fucking big Titus was. An apt name indeed.

Titus groaned, hips juddering in reaction. With a few more desperate thrusts he came, fingers digging into Nyx’s hip; unable to stop himself from tightening around Nyx’s dick, too. He vaguely registered heat and more wetness as Nyx came again, a lot less this time, over his hand. 

Nyx flopped backwards, boneless, as Titus gently eased out of his ass. “Soggy,” he murmured, slurring a little from the combination of pleasure and exhaustion.

“Yeah, very soggy.” Titus disappeared from view, the sound of water running and then he was back again and pressing a wet cloth against Nyx’s ass. He wiped him down methodically, pushing the cloth inside a little and then down and under the crease of Nyx’s thighs until he was clean. Well, cleaner than before, anyway. “You’ll need a bath,” Titus murmured, turning his attention to himself. 

“Don’t need a bath.” Nyx waved one hand around vaguely, eyes already closed. “C’mere you soggy bastard.”

Titus smiled, slow and wide. “Alright alright, keep your hair on.” He lifted the covers and somehow managed to get them over the top of Nyx, tucking them in on one side. He undressed himself with haste and then slid under the covers too, pressing himself against Nyx’s side. 

“That’s better.”

“You’re slurring.” Titus reached up and ran his fingers through Nyx’s hair, enjoying the way the braid felt under his fingertips. “Was it too much?”

Nyx smiled, though his eyes were drooping. “No. Was perfect.” He felt around until he located Titus’ free hand, then twined his fingers through it. “Keep doing that. The thing.”

Titus chuckled under his breath, ducking his head to press a kiss to Nyx’s shoulder. “I’d forgotten how demanding you get after sex.” He continued, though; fingers across Nyx’s braids, through his hair at the scalp and rubbing against the growing fuzz down the side. 

Nyx was boneless against him, and Titus noticed his breathing even out as he drifted off to sleep. He allowed the soft sound to lull him, too, and it wasn’t long before he followed Nyx into dreams.

\- - -

Titus awoke to the sound of soft groans from beside him. “Are you well?” he asked, concern tingeing his voice. 

“I’m aching like hell.” Nyx opened his eyes and looked up at Titus, brows crinkled with sleepiness. “But surprisingly, I feel kinda good. Huh.”

Although he wasn’t exactly certain on where they stood in this strange relationship, Titus was overcome with the urge to kiss Nyx. “I want to kiss you,” he murmured, ducking his head a little.

Nyx smiled, wide and honest, and Titus felt his stomach flutter. “Go on then, you don’t need permission.” He tipped his head a little, and Titus leaned in to kiss him. It was gentle and sweet, even with bed breath, and Nyx sighed into the kiss, lips curling into a smile. “Feels like some sort of dream.”

“Mm, a good one too.” Titus pressed his forehead against Nyx’s, eyes closing as he enjoyed their simple closeness. “How’s the leg?”

“It’s been better.” Nyx shrugged. “But then it’s also been worse, so you know. Can’t complain.”

“Regrets?” Titus wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that one.

“What?” Nyx raised one eyebrow, then hit Titus on the chest. “No, I don’t have regrets, you asshole. Quit it with that bullshit pussyfooting around.” 

Titus grunted, but he felt a weight of relief lift from his shoulders that he hadn’t even realised was weighing him down. “I’ve still a way to go yet, though.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of shit you gotta make up for.” Nyx looked him straight in the eyes, bringing both hands up to cup his face. “But remember what I said about the past? I’m not a slave to it, and you shouldn’t be either.” 

“Easier said than done.” 

Nyx snorted. “That’s bullshit.” He managed to pull himself upright, looking down at Titus with an unreadable expression. “You’re just so used to living in the past that you can’t even imagine the future! What were you gonna do, after you fucked up everything? After you killed the King?”

Titus opened his mouth to speak, but found himself without words. He rolled away from Nyx, turning his back to him and staring at the wall of the caravan. 

“Look, Titus. I-” Nyx reached forward and touched Titus’ shoulder gently. “I’m not trying to be a dick here, okay? Just- you need to move on. We both need to move on. Figure out the future and all that shit, you know?”

“I don’t know what I was going to do, afterwards,” Titus replied after a moment of silence, his voice raw with emotion. “I honestly don’t think I’d thought that far ahead.” Nyx’s hand slipped over his shoulder and he took hold of it, cradling it to his chest. “I’m not sure how you can forgive me,” he continued, “after everything.”

“Neither am I,” Nyx admitted, “but I’m getting there. You need to forgive yourself, I think.”

“Hm.” Titus squeezed Nyx’s hand and then hauled himself upright. “You’re right, as usual. Reckon I should start paying you for this advice stuff, you’re a natural..”

Nyx gave him a cheeky smirk. “Pay me in blowjobs. Or kisses, you know, I’m easy.”

Titus leaned closer and kissed Nyx, sucking his bottom lip gently. “Happy to oblige.” He nuzzled his nose, feeling the rasp of days-old stubble against his chin. They were both in dire need of a shave.

He paused, though, face against Nyx’s shoulder. “Do you think this can work?”

“What, us?” Nyx sank his fingers into Titus’ hair - longer now than it had been for quite some time. “Yeah, I kinda do. Maybe that makes me a dumbass or something, but I don’t care.”

“You’re not a dumbass, you’re amazing.”

“Hah, amazing in bed you mean.” Nyx laughed, and Titus could feel his chest shaking with it against his own. “Speaking of which, I hope you don’t expect me to get up at all today. I’m fucked.”

“Hm, and there was me believing you when you said you were fine, before.”

“Ha ha, this is your fault.”

“You weren’t complaining last night.”

“Nope.” Nyx stretched both his arms upwards, arching his back as much as he could like a contented cat. “Any time you wanna massage me again, that’s fine with me.”

Titus smiled widely, teeth showing. “Oh, you can count on that.” He detached himself somewhat reluctantly from Nyx. “Alright, we’re staying here for a little longer than the day - you need some rest.” He stood and stretched too, a sudden yawn taking over. “Breakfast?”

“I am  _ starving _ !”

“Good, I’ll make something then.” Titus grabbed the rucksack and began pulling supplies out of it, setting them on the small worktop next to the oven. “How do eggs sound?”

“When the hell did you get  _ eggs _ ?” Nyx rubbed his eyes, trying to get the grit from them. 

“While you were asleep in the car yesterday. I saw a nest, so I parked up and grabbed them.” Titus grinned over his shoulder, then opened the cupboard by his head. “Hey, it’s fully stocked. Pans and everything.” He pulled out a saucepan and set it on the hob, then cracked the four eggs into it. “No butter or milk, but hey. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“I’m just surprised you didn’t pull a full-on cooking range from that bag, seriously.” Nyx pulled himself to the edge of the bed and stood up, shakily. “Lord, I need a piss and a shave.”

“We both need a shave.” Titus left Nyx to it as he turned his attentions to the food. There was a tall porcelain holder full of utensils next to the hob, and he took a wooden spoon from there to scramble the eggs. There was still plenty of bread left too; he took four slices and slotted them into the toaster, the sound of Nyx exhaling loudly coming from the tiny bathroom on the other side of the caravan.

“Enjoying that piss?” Titus chuckled to himself as the toilet flushed, then the sound of running water filled the caravan. He boiled the little kettle, rummaging in the cupboard until he located cups and a jar of crappy instant coffee.

Five minutes later and the eggs were ready just as Nyx emerged from the bathroom, hair wet and face shaved. Titus didn’t notice him at first, being too busy setting the food and coffees out on the little breakfast bar, but when he looked up he took a sharp inward breath. “You’ve scrubbed up well,” he said, attempting to be nonchalant. 

“Yeah, well it’s amazing how much better you feel after a shave.” Nyx sat down on the stool with a wince. “Lord, this is uncomfortable. Pass me a pillow, would you?”

Titus obliged, handing one of the pillows from the bed to Nyx, who tucked it under his ass. 

“That’s better.” 

Titus sat down next to Nyx and pressed his shoulder against Nyx’s. “Glad to hear it. Eat up, now.”

They tucked in in companionable silence until both plates were cleared. Titus sat for a moment, sipping the shitty instant coffee he’d brewed, shoulder pressed against Nyx’s, and he thought how amazingly lucky he was to be here like this. How Nyx could forgive him - well, it was beyond Titus, but he wasn’t going to probe too deeply. Perhaps he’d spent too much of his life in silent introspection; always setting himself apart from everyone else, his own pain and anger overcoming all other emotions.

When was the last time he’d allowed himself to just  _ be _ ? With Nyx, most likely. He smiled into his cup.

Nyx elbowed Titus in the ribs, leaning harder against his shoulder. “What you smiling at, old man?”

“Do I need a reason to smile?”

“Usually, yeah. We didn’t call you old stoneface for nothing, you know.”

Titus raised one eyebrow, and shot a sidelong glance at Nyx. “Oh, old stoneface, was it?”

“Pff, don’t pretend like you didn’t know. There were other names too.” Nyx smirked as he took a drink of his own coffee. 

“I think I’ll pass on those ones.” Titus drained the rest of his cup with a satisfied sound and then set it back down on the table.

Nyx laughed. “Alright, I won’t tell you all the worst ones then.” He finished up his own coffee, then rested his head on Titus’ shoulder. “So we’re staying here for a little while, did you say?”

“Yeah, I figured you could use some time off the road.” Titus turned and pressed a kiss to the top of Nyx’s head. “I know you’re eager to get home, but it’s probably not good for you to be sitting in a car for most of the day.”

“Mmm, you’re probably right.” Nyx sighed happily, closing his eyes. “This is nice.”

“Which part?”

“The kissing, dumbass. And like, everything else, too. Feels like we’re away from reality or something. Is that weird?”

“No, it’s not weird.” Titus settled his hand on Nyx’s thigh, rubbing it gently with his thumb. “New start, huh? No more Glaives, no more kings.”

“I miss them, though.” Nyx’s voice turned quiet. “Lib and Crowe, and Pelna and everyone.”

“I know.” Titus continued stroking Nyx’s thigh. “Libertus is resourceful, and I haven’t heard any rumours about his death. I think he’s out there somewhere, probably grousing about the weather.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, I do. And besides, he was escorting the Princess, wasn’t he? He wouldn’t abandon that mission, and I’ve definitely heard rumours of her living, these days.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Nyx placed his hand atop Titus’, twining their fingers together. “Alright, so we rest up. Then next stop, Galahd.” He almost sounded wondering; like he still didn’t quite believe it was going to happen. “What if there’s nothing left, Titus?”

Titus looked down at Nyx and pressed another kiss into his hair, pausing there to take a deep smell of him. “Then we rebuild. It’s about time I created something, rather than destroying it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't talk to me about foam rollers fam, they are the Actual Devil and I used to cry when I was using mine cos it hurt that bad


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL this took a fucking long time!! Sorry about that guys. This is sort of the end - there will be an epilogue or two afterwards; shorter pieces set after the events of this chapter. Thank you all for reading and keeping up with this! It really means a lot <3

Their days had taken on a sort of rhythm, since leaving the last caravan. Titus would drive until sunset, they’d pull over, or make their way to a rest stop, set up the little tent he’d bartered for at one of the Hunter Headquarters, and then they’d sleep. Their sleeping bags zipped together to make one larger, more comfortable bag, and Nyx couldn’t remember a time he’d been happier.

Strange, considering every evening began with the hated physiotherapy routine, finished with the foam roller, that torture device masquerading as a cheerful red tube. But it was what came afterwards that made it all worthwhile. Hell, even early grumpy mornings - stiff from sleep, roused by the large heat of Titus, pressing stubbled kisses against the back of his neck - yeah, they were worthwhile. 

They grew closer to Galahd with every day, every hour. There was a knot of something deep in Nyx’s stomach that he could barely begin to articulate; what if it wasn’t there? If it was there, and occupied by Nifs? Or razed to the ground, burned husks of buildings to match the husks of his nightmares, family trapped inside, Nyx unable to help. 

Titus, almost with a sixth sense by now, glanced sidelong at Nyx. He’d been able to manage the passenger seat for three days now, legs stretched out and the seat pushed as far back as they could get it.

“You’re thinking bad shit again.” 

The radio played along in the background, and Nyx thought along to the lyrics of this old song without even realising he was doing it. 

“Yeah,” he replied, keeping his gaze on the side of the road. The wind from the open window blew his hair, flowed past his hand as it draped out and against the side of the car. He wiggled his fingers, pretending to catch the breeze.

“What do I keep telling you about that?” Titus’ eyebrows were beetled in displeasure, brow crinkled. It made his scars look more obvious, but Nyx actually quite liked that. He enjoyed the scars, the way they gave a certain definition to Titus’ face, and the way they reacted to his subtle changes in expression.

“Yeah, I know.” Nyx sighed, watching his fingers as he spread and closed them again. “I can’t stop thinking about it, Titus.”

“We’re close now; you do know it’ll be tomorrow, right?”

Tomorrow. Shit. It felt like a dream. Hell, this entire fucking journey felt like a dream. Nyx should have died back there, in Insomnia. Borrowed power burning him up with the dawn, taking Titus with him too. 

But here they were. He sighed again, then placed his left hand on Titus’ thigh. The car was an automatic, he didn’t have gears to worry about. The warmth and solidity beneath his fingers helped to ground Nyx enough that he could begin to drive away some of the cobwebs of his dreams. They clung to him, sometimes, like a fine layer of dust that just kept settling every time he brushed it away.

“I’m scared,” Nyx finally admitted, staring at his hand on Titus’ thigh. 

Titus glanced at him again, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Wanna know a secret?”

Nyx raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“I am too.” He gripped the steering wheel enough that Nyx could see his knuckles whitening. “I’m pretty sure I’m no good at being a civilian. Don’t even remember what that’s like, not fighting. Not hating.”

Nyx snorted. “Overdramatic bastard.”

“Hah, like you’re one to talk.”

“True.” Nyx gave Titus’ thigh a squeeze. “Alright, so we’ll just. You know. Try. What else can we do?”

“Crash and burn, most likely.”

Nyx laughed. “Well, there’s always that, yeah.” He turned to Titus though, face serious. “No really though, you need to stop being so hard on yourself, and I need to stop waiting for the worst to happen. If it does? Sure, it’ll suck. But we’ll get through it, right?”

“There you go again with the pep talks.” Titus chuckled, though. “Yeah, we will. Even if we have to live in a shitty barn somewhere.”

“Hey, what if I’d like to live in a shitty barn? Who says I wasn’t  _ born  _ in a barn, huh?”

“That’d explain your habit of leaving doors open everywhere.”

Nyx smacked Titus’ thigh. “I do not do that.”

“You do.” 

He turned the radio up, staring out at the road ahead. If he concentrated, he could almost see the silhouette of Galahd, nestled in the valley they were about to enter.

\- - -

It was almost anti-climactic, when they arrived. The surrounding lands were flatter than Titus’d expected, and there were more trees than he’d thought. Although he wasn’t exactly sure what he’d thought Galahd would look like. Less plainsland, and more… what, destruction? Hmm.

All he had for reference was the little photo Nyx used to have of himself and Libertus playing in a river as children; other family photos being too focused on their human subjects to really showcase the countryside around them. 

The day wasn’t particularly pleasant, with dark clouds looming in the distance and a general air of quietness around them. He’d stopped the car at a deserted-looking farmhouse on the very outskirts of the town, and the two of them leaned against the hood, taking in the surroundings.

“It feels too quiet,” Nyx remarked, tilting his head up and closing his eyes, inhaling deeply. “Smells like rain’s coming.”

Titus eyed the clouds in the distance - not so distant now - and scowled. “If we don’t find shelter soon, we’ll be caught in that.” He tipped his head at the clouds and folded his arms across his chest.

Nyx snorted. “Wouldn’t be complaining.” He took another great sniff of the air and then opened his eyes, grinning over at Titus with a mischievous look on his face. “Nothing wrong with getting caught in a nice thunderstorm.”

“I especially love being struck by lightning.” 

“You could do with a jolt. You’re getting old and cranky! Bit of lightning might put some zip in you again.”

Titus glared sidelong at Nyx. “There’s life in this old hound yet,” he growled, “don’t make me give you an example.”

A shiver chased down his spine at the look Nyx shot him - memories of the last time he’d given Titus himself an example of just how pissed he was flooding his mind. 

Nyx leaned against Titus, ignoring his grousing. “So you think anyone lives in that big old house?” 

“Doesn’t look like it. What even happened here, anyway?”

“Nifs happened,” Nyx replied, voice flat. “Don’t want to talk about it.”

“Hm. Fair enough.” Titus pushed himself off the car, looping his arm around Nyx’s waist to pull him up too. “Only one way to find out. Come on, let’s check it out. I got point.”

Nyx scowled, but he fell into position anyway. Old habits died hard, it seemed, even through injuries and PTSD. It was good to know that he was there, at Titus’ elbow, receptive as he always was for commands.

They moved across the terrain with slower steps than usual as Titus accounted for Nyx’s leg and back, but they arrived at the farmhouse in less time than he’d thought. Deceptive, these big fields. And waterlogged, at that. Good job they were wearing boots.

There were no lights showing in the windows - not so strange, considering the time of day - but there were also no stray, telltale sounds of human habitation either. 

He pushed open the huge, heavy wooden door and stepped quickly inside, Nyx slipping past too and closing the door behind them with a soft  _ click _ . 

The entranceway was empty, and Titus pushed a scattering of letters with his toes as he moved to the next doorway - a kitchen, and a large one at that - equally deserted.

The house seemed to creak as a heavy wind blew down the chimney - damned old houses - and it sounded rickety as all hell. The sound set Titus’ hairs rising at the back of his neck, and he gritted his teeth as he pushed through the kitchen and into what seemed to be the living room. There was a television, a sofa and two armchairs, as well as a large, old-fashioned hearth which looked to be one of those fuelled by wood, of all things. 

“Haven’t seen one of those in years,” Nyx whispered as he came to stand next to Titus. “This place feels like a relic.”

Titus snorted under his breath. “Yeah, or like a horror movie. Next thing we know there’ll be some axe murdering daemon bursting out from that fireplace and we’ll be toast.”

Nyx stifled a laugh, elbowing Titus in the ribs. “Shut it, you’re not helping.”

Titus grinned, then he schooled his face to serious once more. “Alright, concentrate. Finish the sweep.”

“All business,” Nyx grumbled, but there was no heat to it. 

The rest of the house was the usual fare; downstairs bathroom, another room with a huge oak dining table, then three bedrooms upstairs, all of a good size and all of them as empty as if their occupants had just fled with no notice, no time to collect any of their belongings. There was another bathroom, this one larger than the downstairs one, and then a broad, sturdy-looking ladder which led up and into the ceiling.

Titus looked up, crooking an eyebrow at the ladder. “I’ll go,” he said, short and sweet. “You’re not up to ladders yet.”

Nyx grumbled behind him, but he ignored it and climbed. He pushed on the square panel above his head, letting it go up and then fall to the side with a puff of dust which billowed directly into his face.

Titus stifled a sneeze as the dust went up his nose, but he managed to keep his eyes open. The attic was empty of people, but full of junk, as he’d expected. He reversed back down the ladder once more and came face to face with Nyx, who looked somewhat worried.

“All clear,” he confirmed, then allowed himself to relax. Nyx seemed to sag with relief, leaning against Titus, who wrapped both arms around him. “It’s safe, there’s no horror movie tropes here.”

“Not what I was worried about,” Nyx breathed against Titus’ collarbone.

“Yeah I know.” Images of dead, time-ravaged Galahdians flashed through his head, and Titus suppressed a moment of unease. Foolish thoughts, the house was empty and they finally had somewhere safe and comfortable to spend the night. Or nights.

“I wonder what happened.” Nyx’s arms were around Titus’ waist, too, face buried in that nook between shoulder and collarbone that he always seemed to gravitate to.

“Fleeing the war, I reckon.” Titus’ face was grim as his own memories rose, unbidden, to the surface. “Amazing what you find important enough to take with you, when it matters.”

There was a layer of dust blanketing every porcelain ornament gracing the multiple side units; every single vase was surrounded by a bigger mound of dust, as though once-fresh flowers had disintegrated long ago.

“I wonder how long this place’s been empty.” Nyx pushed himself away from Titus, as though he’d gathered his remaining strength.

“Long enough to go to shit.” Titus looked up at the ceiling - it was covered in cobwebs, no telling how many gigantic varieties of spider living among them. Great. 

“Mm.” Nyx headed off down the hallway, managing the stairs with a limp, still; using the banister for support. “Guess it’s shelter, all the same.”

“Yeah, better than being out in the middle of nowhere with daemons on the prowl.”

Nyx turned to glare up at Titus, two stairs above him. “It’s not the middle of nowhere,” he hissed, “it’s  _ Galahd _ .”

“Okay, better than being in Galahd with daemons on the prowl. That better?”

“Hmm, I suppose it’ll do.” 

Titus closed the distance between them and bent down to press a kiss to Nyx’s head. “Good. Now, let’s get the things in from the car, it’ll be dark soon.”

Nyx swatted him on the arm with a grin. “Just because we’re kissing and stuff now, doesn’t mean you can get away with shit, you know.”

“Oh, I know. Worth a try though.” Titus helped Nyx down the last of the stairs, and then they headed back outside to the car. 

It was exactly where they’d left it, and no one else was around for miles, it seemed. The farmhouse itself was surrounded by fields, partitioned off with low, drystone walls. None of them contained any crops, although there seemed to be an abundance of weeds, as well as carrion birds scattered throughout.

It would be a lovely place to settle down, Titus thought to himself, with wonder. He could almost imagine crops flourishing in one field here, maybe some Garulas, or whatever their equivalent was in Galahd, in another. Of course, then he could barely believe he was thinking about  _ settling down _ somewhere - anywhere - at all.

Was he the kind of man who could milk a Garula, or harvest some grain? Or was he the kind who didn’t know what to do with himself if he wasn’t killing something. More the former, he had to admit. Or at least, the type who could learn to milk and harvest; learn to live at peace for what felt like the first time in his life.

Titus threw open the trunk of the car and began loading himself up with their supplies. He handed a rucksack to Nyx - not a large one, just the smaller one they’d acquired along the way which they used for toiletries and some spare clothes - and shouldered the larger one full of salted meats and other foods. They’d managed to acquire quite a collection along the way, mostly aided by Nyx’s constant sightseeing out of the window. He’d made Titus stop every half a mile or so, pointing out a bush full of ripe berries, or a little plot of wild potatoes, onions, carrots, anything that could and did flourish out in the wilderness. 

“I could take that one, you know,” Nyx pointed out mildly. He picked up a bag of apples from the trunk and eyed Titus.

“I know.” Titus grabbed the last supplies from the trunk - a pair of large water bottles with handles on top - and then closed it with his free hand. “Grab one of these and I’ll get the blankets from the back seat.”

Nyx raised an eyebrow, but took both bottles from Titus. He flashed him a cheeky grin, then turned towards the house once more. “Looks nice in this light.”

Titus opened the back door and reached in, pulling out the two blankets that had been Nyx’s constant companion. The last things left in the car were their sleeping bags and the pouch of medications which lived in the glovebox - Titus would come back for them later. For now, he was more focused on getting their food out of the open and into somewhere cooler than a car. 

He straightened, arms full of blankets, and closed the back door with his hip. “It does,” he agreed, eyeing the farmhouse. He could imagine the way it would look in the sunset after a long day at work, and the thought warmed him all the way to his toes. 

They walked into the house side by side, elbows brushing, a closeness between them that didn’t need to be spoken. The house wasn’t a home, not yet, but they would surely make it one.

\- - - 

The bed was more comfortable than it looked. Or perhaps, it was more that it was an actual bed rather than a tiny, cramped caravan bed, or the back of a car, or, well. Anywhere else that they’d been sleeping for the past however long. 

Nyx found himself almost unable to sleep, though. Something about laying in someone else’s musty old bed was giving him the creeps. Not to mention that the blankets smelled musty, even through their own that they’d spread over the top of the ones which were already there. Sleeping bags didn’t make such great duvets, but they were better than the slightly mouldy one which had been crumpled up at the head of the bed. 

A zip poked Nyx in the chin, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care, considering he was completely surrounded by Titus, who had one arm under Nyx’s neck and the other around his waist, holding him close and warm. 

Titus had a habit of snuffling in his sleep, which Nyx found unbearably endearing, even if it did mean his hair got ruffled in the gentle, snorey breeze every now and again. To help with the breeziness, Nyx tugged up a little sleeping bag, so that his head was covered - much like a shapeless log in the dark - and he drifted off to the sound of Titus’ breathing, and the soft rise and fall of his chest. 

The next thing Nyx knew, a waft of freezing cold air hit him as the sleeping bag was yanked backwards, a blinding light shining straight in his face. He yelled out, reaching up to cover his eyes on instinct, while groping under his pillow for a kukri with the other.

“Keep those hands where I can see them,” came a gruff voice from somewhere beyond the light. 

Nyx screwed his eyes shut, trying to peer through his eyelashes as Titus came awake next to him. 

“What the fuck is this,” he growled, fury barely hidden. Nyx could feel the tension radiating through him, and he swallowed hard. The last thing they needed was for this guy - whoever the fuck he was - to take offence and shoot them in the head. Not a good way to christen their new home, mouldy and dusty as it was.

“Alright, hands where you can see them,” he muttered, soothingly. “Is this your house? Because we can leave, if that’s the issue.”

“Shut up,” came the voice. “Just shut the fuck up and get up. Slowly.” 

The light moved sharply, and Nyx blinked to try and clear his vision. He felt the hard edges of his kukri under the pillow as he moved, trying to get himself up as slowly and carefully as he could. He wouldn’t be able to reach for the weapon, considering how stiff he always was after waking up - more’s the pity.

Nyx winced as he twisted his back in an awkward way. The light flashed again, and got closer.

“Hey, no funny business.”

Titus growled. “It’s not funny business, he’s injured!” The protectiveness in his voice warmed Nyx’s stomach, even as he bristled at the thought that he couldn’t take care of himself as well any more. Not quite something he’d had to get to grips with yet.

He managed to sit himself upright and against the headboard, though, with the support of Titus’ broad shoulder against his own. “There, we’re up. Now what, you got the upper hand, yeah? No need for anything hasty.”

The light shone again, directly into his eyes, and Nyx turned his head away a little, squeezing his eyes closed against the harsh yellow glare. 

“Wait a minute. What the hell?” The voice came closer, heavy, booted footsteps on the creaky floorboards, and then the light dimmed enough for Nyx’s vision to turn to low starbursts as his eyes readjusted. 

“Nyx?”

Nyx tilted his head sharply, at that. And there was… something. Something familiar, in that voice. Wait… it couldn’t be.

“Nyx fucking Ulric? You have got to be kidding me.” The light pointed at the ground and the footsteps came closer, until Nyx felt the heaviness of someone sitting down on the bed. “You’re dead, man. I just- how?”

“Ostium.” Titus’ voice was quiet next to Nyx, and he thought he heard a hint of sorrow in it. Strange. 

So it really was him. Nyx rubbed his eyes with both hands, trying to clear his vision and get a look at the shadow before him - next to him, now.

“Libertus?” he said, softly, still not quite believing it. The room was dim, but as his eyes adjusted, Nyx had to believe it. It really was him. Nyx wanted to reach out, to pull Libertus into a hug, anything, but it almost felt like that would break the illusion. That Lib wouldn’t really be there any more.

Libertus, however, unburdened by any of these thoughts, pulled Nyx into a bear hug. “I thought you were dead,” he said into Nyx’s neck. “What the hell man.”

Nyx smiled, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders that he’d barely realised he was carrying. “Long story,” he replied, patting Libertus on the back. 

Libertus turned his head a little, pitching his voice to a whisper. “What’s with the traitor? I can’t believe he’s still alive too.”

“I can hear you, you know.” Titus’ voice broke the air, a hint of dry amusement in it that Nyx figured only he would pick up on.

“Yeah, long story man.” Nyx laughed awkwardly, then sat back out of the hug with a wince. “Lord, I’m stiff. We’re gonna need a new mattress for this bed, Titus.” He patted Titus on the thigh, then realised whose presence they were in. Oh hell, that was one way to break it to Lib, wasn’t it?

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Libertus’ voice was flat, and with none of his usual good cheer. “Are you insane? What, did the beating  _ he  _ gave you scramble your brains or something?” Libertus gestured angrily at Titus, and Nyx squeezed his thigh in preemptive warning.

“Don’t,” Nyx said, shooting a glare at Titus. “Just. Keep your mouth shut.” He turned to Libertus again, brow creasing. “I’ll tell you everything Lib, I promise. I just need to stretch first, okay?”

Libertus opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again once he saw Nyx stiffly pull himself a little more upright. He realised he was in the way and stood, watching Nyx shunt off the covers and slide his legs over the side of the bed. “Uh, stretch. Right.” He rubbed the back of his head with his free hand, the other one dangling at his side, gun still in hand.

Titus got out of bed too, rounding the side of it to throw a protective arm around Nyx, holding him upright without making it obvious.

Nyx thought, for the first time, how much he’d grown used to relying on Titus for the little things like this, and a flush of warmth went through his body. “So how did you know we were here?”

Libertus grinned, then tapped his ear. “We’re not so backwards any more, you know.” He turned his head a little to show Nyx the earpiece nestled there. “Surveillance, it’s the future. And anyway, this place is so quiet these days that everyone pretty much knows what’s going on the second it happens. One of my boys saw you guys pull up and let me know.”

Nyx grinned. “Nice, impressive system you got there. So what, you’re the boss now?”

Libertus flushed, shuffling his feet a little awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess I am. I mean, no one else really has the training, so I just… you know. Stepped in.”

“Glaive training is useful for all sorts, it seems.” Titus’ words were slightly warmer, but Nyx could sense the bridled emotion beneath his stoic exterior. Amazing how these things worked, now; how he found himself noticing all sorts about his- ah, his boyfriend. Still felt a little strange thinking of him like that. 

“Yeah, it is.” Nyx shot Titus a look that clearly said ‘watch it’, then turned a tired smile back to Libertus. “Okay, so I guess the next thing is… is this place empty for real? Because we’ve got uh, nowhere to go…”

“You kidding? This place’s been empty for about ten years, man. I mean, look at it.” Libertus looked around at the bedroom - the musty smell, the thick-strewn cobwebs in the corners, the leaf litter around the windowsill from where the pane didn’t quite close properly - and winced. “You sure you wanna live  _ here _ ? I mean, we can probably find you somewhere closer to town, you know. A bit less, uh. Mouldy?”

Titus snorted. “Maybe we like mouldy.”

Nyx raised an eyebrow in his direction, but nodded anyway. “Just want somewhere quiet, you know? Not too many people, Lib. I just- I can’t really do that right now. Feels like it’s been a lifetime since Insomnia…”

Libertus closed the distance between them, reaching up and gripping Nyx’s shoulder gently. “Whatever you need, brother. And if you want help fixing this place up, I know a few guys who’d be thankful of a change of scenery.”

“That would be a help,” Titus admitted, although he sounded a bit grudging about it. He was the kind of guy who didn’t like to accept help, Nyx figured. Lone wolf sort. Well, they were in it together now, and better for it, too.

“Give us a few days to get settled, Lib. You can show us where you live, too. I wanna check out the town…” Nyx felt a lump in his throat - still didn’t quite feel like it was real. Even in the distance they’d noticed the sight of buildings in various states of repair. Maybe Galahd was changed forever now, but they were making the best of what they had.

He thought they could live like that quite happily.


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And this is where it ends: in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I'm so sorry it took so long to get this up, you guys!!

The days were starting to get longer, and Nyx could feel the sweat gathering on his brow. Working in a hot kitchen on days like this wasn’t the most fun he’d ever had; the ovens were roasting him alive, the pastry was melting and, even without a shirt, he felt like he was up close and personal with the Infernian himself.

Libertus pushed open the kitchen door with his hip, a pile of plates balanced precariously across his forearm and a pair of pint glasses in his other hand. “Shit, it’s like a volcano in here, what the hell.” He dumped the crockery next to the sink and leaned against the worktop, wiping his brow with the tea towel which had been shoved into his belt.

“You’re telling me,” Nyx replied as he drizzled dressing over two plates of fish and salad. Literally no soul was wanting to eat anything remotely like a hot meal, but Galahdians being Galahdians, everyone wanted bread and pastries nonetheless.

“I could lose half my bodyweight in here! Whose idea was it to work in this weather anyway?”

“Well, you could always go turn them away.” Nyx smirked at Lib over the top of his plating. “Or you could go take these mains to table six.”

“Heh, okay okay, you got it.” Libertus took both plates and flashed Nyx a grin. “You holdin’ up okay back there, though?”

Nyx flicked the tea towel in his direction, giving Libertus a mock-glare. “I’m fine, stop fussing. You’re like a mother cluckatrice! I’ve got my stool, it’s all good. Now get your ass in gear before the customers complain!” Nyx sat back down onto the tall stool as Libertus left, taking the weight from his leg a little.

He didn’t quite need it, but the prosthetic wasn’t the best it could be, and standing for too long gave him a deep ache in his bones, even now. He wondered, sometimes, what it would be like to live without that pain, but every time he was reminded of all the things he did have. It could be worse, he thought. He could have burned up with the dawn, bound irretrievably to his bargain with those dead Kingly bastards.

But instead, he was here. Someone he trusted and loved waiting at home for him, his best friend and business partner at his side, their restaurant doing rowdy, joyful business. No, he couldn’t complain.

\- - -

The sun was beginning to set, and Titus sat back against the roof, one hand shading his eyes. It sure was beautiful out here; almost enough to remind him of his home. Although, he was beginning to realise, he thought of Galahd more as his home than anywhere else he’d ever lived. Perhaps it was due to the influence of a certain ex-Glaive, or, the fact that Titus felt at peace with himself and his life for the first time he could remember.

He rested his feet on the top of the ladder propped against the side of their house. It was Autumn, and the rainy season was coming - not that there really was a season in Galahd that  _ wasn’t  _ rainy, mind - and the next project on his list was to shore up the roof before Winter. Titus’d already patched up the holes back when they first moved into the farmhouse, but now the weather was turning colder, they were beginning to feel it a little more.

Besides that, he knew that the chill in the air made Nyx’s pain worse, so anything he could do to alleviate that was fine by him.

There was something almost restful about labouring on their home. Only the sounds of nature around him - right up until Nyx got home, when the radio went on immediately - and the noise of his hammering or sawing; the warm burn of well-used muscles after a long day; the satisfaction of seeing something he built, something he fixed and made whole again with his own hands, right there in front of him. None of that could be beaten. And after a life of hatred and revenge, this simple work felt like a balm to Titus’ soul. Like a slow, steady washing away of his sins. 

The sound of the gate closing brought Titus from his reverie, and he raised his hand to greet Nyx as the car pulled up into their drive. The sun set behind Nyx and the car, and Titus felt a great swell in his heart as it finally washed over him; he was at peace. Home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank every single one of you who've been reading along, leaving me comments and kudos and generally being fantastic, awesome people! I think this is the longest fic I've ever finished, and I'm so happy I made it!! I hope you enjoyed the ending <3


End file.
